Learning to be Human
by MyHairHurts
Summary: Julia Wright is Sam's age. The year is 1997. More than a year after she performs a self-inflicted exorcism, the young woman has spent so long inside a demons head, she is having difficulty reintegrating into society. Is she a lost cause? Julia W. should be among SPN list of characters but she isn't. Trigger warnings, bad language and hetero warnings apply.
1. Love Silver

**Disclaimer: Guess what! I don't own jack! You know the drill, so why are you reading disclaimers?**

**AN: **For unknown reasons, I thought about Julia Wright and I thought about how much more interesting her character and story could have been. It could have been pretty damn vicious. Then I thought about what a really good writer could do with her story. And then I was sad because I don't know any really good stories written with her character and I'm not a very good writer. Then I decided to hell with it: I'm going to be the shitty writer that flails widely in a pathetic attempt at a good story based around this character. I've got trigger elements in this story, likely screwed up and written elements that are completely inappropriate and crossed lines that should probably never be crossed. My apologies. At the very least, I am really trying not to be too offensive but I suspect plots that I actually find interesting have a high probability of upsetting someone somewhere. So I'm rating this story with an M. Feel free to berate me in your reviews. Maybe I'll learn a thing or two.

And that's a sizeable rant about nothing. I should stop there. Julia was in season 5 of Supernatural. I've made her Sam's age which would have put her at 14 when she was possessed. And that's where child abuse lines start getting crossed. I thought I'd make her demon more sinister and start her out more hostile. So, my apologies that she is most definitely, out of character. There's a lot of swearing to start with but it will lessen.

August 1999

Padding up as silently as possible from downwind, I approach the cabin clutching my .22 tightly in my hands. I'm too stiff. Trying to remember my shooting lessons, I take a moment to relax my shoulders and unclench my jaw. I take deep quiet breaths. When my heart rate has returned to a reasonable level, I take a peek in the open window.

He is in the kitchenette area opening a beer with his back turned to me. I need him to face me to make sure the bullet pierces his heart. I'm not a very experienced hunter or a particularly good marksmen. I need this to be over in one shot. There isn't any room for mistakes. I probably shouldn't even be doing it. I should have called Martin and told him about the hunt. He would have come out to hunt the pack of skinwalkers or sent an experienced hunter. But then I wouldn't be here getting this opportunity to learn. No hunter will agree to apprentice me. None of them approve of a teenage girl hunting. Hell, maybe they're right. I'm 5'7" and underweight.

I cut my thoughts short before I spiral into self-doubt. Rather than prepare myself any more than I already am, I move before I can over think this any further than I already have. Standing up, I brace the butt of the gun in my hand as I hold the handle, body positioned as I was taught, safety off and ready to fire.

Only, when I stand up a face is inches from mine and I'm not sure who is more freaked out. Him or me. I aim and squeeze the trigger at point blank range where he stands at the window looking out at me. I can tell by the genuine surprise in his eyes that he didn't see that coming. My gunshot cracks and rebounds all over the forest in the black of night.

He looks down at the hole in his chest and then he drops like a ton of bricks.

My breath comes out in short gasps. I killed him. I killed him. Was he really a skinwalker? Little late to be second guessing that. My hands tremble and I'm having a hard time thinking clearly. Then I remember. I only have minutes until his pack comes. They will be coming for me. I read there is probably some type of psychic connection because when something happens to the leader, they all come out of the woodwork. That's why you're warned off of shooting the leader first. Because you will have to deal with the rest of the pack all at once. But I'm more worried about missing the leader than I am about the rest of the pack. My concerns are ill-conceived.

I walk into the cabin and set up ready for the coming battle. I don't need to make peep holes. The old cabin has lots of gaps in the walls. I open my canvas bag of weapons with my stolen silver melted down into bullets. I was pretty scared to take this on, so I stole a lot of silver. A lot of silver makes a lot of bullets. I'm good with that. I'm so scared, but it sort of feels good. I'm scared but I have some sort of control over this situation. I'm not helpless. I'm not tied up. I'm not trapped.

I unload the rest of the guns and lay them out, safeties off so I can grab them off the table instead of reloading. I have my doubts I can reload a gun with trembling hands.

This was an incredibly stupid idea. I see that tiny little wretched face in the back of my mind. This isn't a bad idea. This is so much better than being helpless and impotent. I have to do something. I have to fight something. I need to feel powerful again. I am right where I am supposed to be. I take a spot where I have a good view and wait with my .22 in my grasp.

I'm not sure what I was expecting. I suppose strategy. I thought there would be a build up. Warning. What I get is a bunch of dogs going nuts I unison attacking the rickety old cabin. I try to aim and shoot but they don't hold still long enough to aim and shoot.

"Hey Cujo!" I make eye contact with one through a gap. When it stops to look at me, I shoot it in the chest off centre directly in the heart. It drops. Damn, I'm good.

"Any more rabid dogs to put down?" That causes another to pause just long enough for me to take aim and shoot. I exhale, ready to move onto the next.

"Does your pack have any bitches?" Aim and shoot another silver bullet.

"Bitches love silver." I shoot but miss as the next skinwalker breaks rickety old wood apart. I fire repeatedly, hitting the beast but missing the heart. A much louder gunshot cracks as I'm taken to the ground. I curl in a ball as a bunch of shots go off. And then there is silence.

Who was that? No one knows I'm here. I shove the skinwalker off of me and scramble to my feet, clasping my gun suspiciously. Hyper alert, I make my way to the door and see three unfamiliar faces.

"Bitches love silver?" A man a few years older than me says. He is pretty enough that I feel my face blush just because he's looking at me. As if anyone would want me.

I'm not laughing. "What're you doing here?" I demand to know.

An older man steps in. Tall, imposing and stern. "What do you think you're doing out here all alone huntin' an entire pack of skinwalkers alone?"

"You're not my father." I narrow my eyes at him. More hunters telling me what to do.

"Where is you family? Your father would love to know what you're up to."

"This was my hunt. You had no business cutting in on it."

"You almost got shredded by-"

"Dean." The older hunter barks his name like an order and the young man goes silent instantly.

"You won't tell me where you family is, Martin will."

Fuck. "He's been tracking me? Doesn't matter. Best he can do is fuck up my hunts."

"Watch your mouth!"

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuckety fuck you!" I turn my back on him and suddenly I'm whirled around and he's grabbing hold of my forearm in a tight grasp.

"Kid don't make you spank me."

As much as I want to cry, I replace grief for my family with equal quantities of venom. "As much as I love a good spanking, don't you think you're a little old for me?" He looks stunned by my insinuation. "If you'll let go of my arm, I'll go get my shovel and bury the bodies from _my_ hunt." How am I ever going to get any good at hunting if Martin continues to keep tabs on me and uses other hunters to cockblock my hunts?

"Dean, Sam, bury the bodies." He orders as he keeps his eyes on me. I notice the third man isn't really a man so much as a teenage boy. About my age. I take it this hunter has two sons that he hunts with. He pulls out a cell phone and makes a phone call. Martin's going to tell him everything, isn't he? So much for privacy.

"Creaser, I got the girl. Picked a fight with an entire pack of skinwalkers. She's got one hell of a mouth on her and a death wish. Where's home?" I struggle to slip out of his grasp. He shoots me a deadly warning look, mixed with disbelief. Then as he listens to Martin his brow creases and his mouth turns down either side. "What happened to her people?... Then who's her guardian? … And she just keeps runnin' away? Why haven't you taken her in?" Because I just run away. "No, you need to tell me what exactly happened to her... possession? … Why do I get the feelin' that's not all of it? … Then what do I do with her?" He holds the phone back from his face in confusion and I hear the dial tone. I almost laugh that Martin hung up on him.

Do what with me? Anyone that tries to take care of me will be made to regret it. Just then Sam and Dean return with shovels. His next move shocks the hell out of me. He pulls out zip ties and traps my hands in them with my arms locked around a tree.

"What the hell do you think you're doin'?" I rage at him.

"My name's John Winchester, these are my sons' Sam and Dean. Sam, Dean, meet Julia Wright. Julia's stayin' with us for awhile until we can find her a home."

"Like hell I am!"

"Julia when was the last time you got a good nights sleep and a meal?"

"Fuck you!"

John's eyes narrow. "What we have here Dean, is a girl who was possessed by a demon for the better part of a year when she was 14. No family left."

"You dick! I don't want your help."

John continues. "Demon left quite the mark on you."

"Taught me everything I know."

"You been through a lot, but you will be respectful while you live with us."

"Live with you? I'm gonna corrupt your little boys John. I'll teach them language the likes of which they've never heard before. I'll show them I can suck the chrome off a ball hitch." I tell him in a low dirty voice with a lascivious smile. I've never had sex in my life, but I got enough filthy information from the demon in my head to fill a book. "You should let me go and your boys can keep what's left of their innocence old man. Or were you thinkin' of keepin' me to play hide the sausage with later?" I sense he's going to be uptight enough to take exception to that innuendo. If that doesn't make him dislike me enough to ditch me, I don't know will.

His eyes harden. "You catchin' this Dean?"

"Yeah, I'm seeing it."

"Remember it. This is just the emotional trauma left from demon possession. It's rare for anyone to survive. This is why it's so important to find 'em before they can switch bodies. I don't have to tell you not to accept anything she's offerin'. She's Sam's age."

Dean grunts and the two young men start digging.

"This is kidnapping! Let me go or I'll kill you in your sleep, mutilate your remains in the most humiliating way possible and leave your corpse on the most horrific display I can invent." I'm disappointed when John gags me with a handkerchief. I stare at him imagining horrific deaths for him that would have made Bruno proud.

Bruno. The demon who used to possess me. Taught me everything I know. Even how to shoot a gun. Well, not literally. I learned it from his head. Close enough. I'm a well trained thief and educated in filthy thoughts that no one but a sadist would ever want to know. I don't want most of my thoughts.

Embarrassingly, John is right about me being tired and hungry. I focused my efforts this past week on stealing silver for bullets. And survival is hard enough as a homeless teenage girl. There's a couple of orchards near the stairwell I've been sleeping in. Most of my diet this week has been apples and pears from that orchard. I probably should have taken better care of myself because I fall asleep hugging the tree very quickly. That isn't a good way to prove that I can take care of myself.

When John cuts the zip ties around my wrists, I jerk awake. I take his legs out from under him where he crouches before I'm even aware of what I'm doing. But he recovers quickly enough, forcing my nose down into the dirt as he twists my arm up against my back. I sense his sons are watching me.

"You've got decent skills but you're underfed and weak. Now, you want to sit in the car or do I need to hog tie you and hide you in the trunk?" He says in a low steely voice.

I don't want to co-operate. Martin didn't tell John everything. But he told him too much and he in turn told his son's too much. It makes me vulnerable. Still, I don't want to be hog tied. When he undoes my gag I answer: "I'll sit in the car."

"Watch your mouth around my sons."

I want to go with the tried, tested and true 'fuck you' response. But I get the impression that saying that, would get me hog tied.

On the ride back to their motel in the next state (one hell of a drive to head me off, Martin must be a very good friend) the tension is palpable. The younger son, Sam is sleeping in the front seat, I suspect to keep him away from me. And the older son, Dean is sitting on the other end of the bench style back seat keeping a close eye on me.

"Why are you holding onto me?" I finally ask John. "Why don't you just let me go? No one can stand me. I'm fucked in the head, dude."

"Language."

"I can't! I can't watch my language. I've been thinking it for a very long time!"

"You won't be much of a hunter if you can't talk civilly to people." John points out.

"I don't plan to be a good hunter. I just need someone I'm allowed to shoot at."

"You're angry."

"Damn right I'm angry." A tiny face flashes before I shove it aside.

"What's your story."

"Demon possession," I answer unhelpfully.

"I can't help you if I don't know it."

"I've been fucked five ways from Sunday-"

"Language."

"Shit." I forgot.

"Language."

"Cocksuc-" He shoots me a look from the front seat. I can't think of a word that isn't more cursing but expresses my frustration. I take a breath. "Demons in your head are deleterious to your vocabulary." I tell him caustically.

To my surprise, he laughs. "So I gather. But you can do it. What's the last grade of school you completed?"

I have to stop and think about it. "Grade 8. I completed Grade 8. I got some killer lessons on the sex trade though, so I'm primed and ready for life as a working girl. Put that in your pipe and smoke it." I dig in knowing he won't approve of that idea. His hands tighten around the steering wheel. I grin.

"Stop with the innuendo's little girl." John orders me.

"Innocent school girl is what floats your boat? I can pretend to be one of those." I purr.

"You're starting your first day of school Monday. Dean's going to spend this week helping you clean up your language for it."

Dean's eyes widen in alarm. John raises an eyebrow. "Yessir," Dean responds submissively.

"I'm not gonna be your bitch!"

"Language."

"You think you can house train me? I'll blow every boy in school until I get kicked out for it and bring attention to your family."

John looks at me through the rear view mirror. "Then Dean's got his work cut out for him." I don't miss Dean gulping in the seat next to me. I don't usually make so many innuendo's, I usually prefer to threaten with violence. But John is clearly not a man to be frightened off by threats of having his balls cut off and fed to him by force.

"You're wasting your time. I died the day that demon took me. He _is_ my identity. You wanna be kind, shoot me in my sleep." I turn my back on him and rest my head on the seat back going off to sleep.

Soft. I feel something soft in my sleep. That is so not what I expect, I jerk awake. "Where am I?" I'm not in the black car any more. I'm on a bed.

"Back at the motel honey."

I look around and see there are only two beds. "Someone else can have the bed." I say getting up.

"I'll get more beds tomorrow, they'll survive without a bed one night."

"Four walls and a roof are a step up, don't waste the bed, I won't sleep in it."

"I'm tying you to the bed so you don't run away during the night."

My mouth falls open as I realize he sees through my plans. I close my mouth and narrow my eyes at him. "You do realize this is kidnapping?"

John and Dean wrap my wrists in soft material and then tie my wrists to the bed. It's unsettling two have two grown men strapping me down.

"Father and son gang bang? Kinky." If I'm going to be made uncomfortable with the situation, I'm going to make damn sure they're uncomfortable too. Unfortunately neither responds to my goading.

"You need the bathroom?"

"No. Why?"

"Goodnight Julia." John says with finality before he gags me.

I watch etched tired faces in the low lamp light as the three take turns in the bathroom.

Intellectually, I know there isn't any danger here. Still, I saw Bruno's memories and I watched his lackey's kidnap, rape and torture victims. I've watched a girl like me tied down to a bed while men took all week to kill them. I'm trapped in my body and watching passively as strange men control me. I feel expressly threatened by the situation. I do my best to fake indifference. I can't let John know that this is getting to me. I can't let him know that I'm scared of anything. I can't show vulnerability.

Dean gives up the couch to Sam because he has school tomorrow. I look at the clock and see it is 3am. School in the morning? John can't seriously expect Sam to go to school tomorrow. But then I see he does. He dragged the guy across state lines to catch someone else's daughter in the middle of hunting? Why didn't he leave him alone at the motel to sleep? I thought parents took education seriously?

The lights turn out at they lay down to sleep. I hate the black.

"Julia! Julia, stop!"

I'm choking on salt. Bruno's returned in John Winchester's body and he's pissed. He has me tied to a bed and he's a huge bag of salt down my throat as his subordinates hold me still. My legs are flying out and my body is arching off the bed as I try to turn away from the salt. I can hear my muffled screams and feel hot tears on my face.

My mouth breaks free. "I didn't mean it Bruno!" He's going to skewer me. I know it. He was skewered in Hell and he has shown me exactly what that feels like. "I'll tell you where he is! Let me make it up to you! Please Bruno!" Pain screeches through me and a throttled scream is torn from my throat as I re-experience the sensation of being skewered from ass to throat with an iron bar. Passing through critical organs and soft tissues the pain is so bad when I finish my scream I can't inhale my next breath. I can hear the airless gasp as I fight for air that my closed throat and seemingly collapsed chest can't allow in.

"Julia!" I see John's eyes filled with fear and concern.

His voice cuts through to me and the next breath comes gushing in. I'm panting and sweating and terrified. "Where'd he go? Where's Bruno?"

He shakes his head. "No, I'm not Bruno. What in the hell was that?"

"He showed me what it felt like being skewered when he was in Hell. Untie my hands. I promise I'll stay. I'll do anything you want. I'll kill, maim and fuck whoever you want if you don't tie me down." I've completely lost it and I can't collect myself. I don't even have a hope of it. I'm having a complete meltdown in front of strangers and I'm too upset to care.

To my surprise, John pulls me into a hug. I haven't cried since... tiny face looks up at me. Grief floods through me. Instead of getting better, I cry harder. I cry until I'm spent and he just holds me tight. "Can I die yet?"

"Not yet. Lots of good things still to come." He coaxes in my ear.

"Death _is_ a good thing." I tell him. He doesn't say anything to that.

I must have fallen asleep again, because I wake up curled in a tight ball at the end of the bed. That's how I've slept ever since I got free of Bruno. I start at the top of the bed but wake up in a ball at the end of the bed.

"Morning Wildcat." Dean offers a lopsided grin.

My body is worn out from heavy crying. From taking on a pack of skinwalkers. From living. "Go blow yourself."

"Language." I hear John's voice from the bathroom.

"Where's Sam?" I see no sign of him.

"School."

"So... what's your chosen method of torture?" I ask stretching out the ligaments in my body.

"Breakfast." Dean points to cereal, milk, bowl and spoon waiting on the table.

"I don't want any."

"That's where the torture comes in," he says with a smirk.

I pull a face at him and take a look at the mirror hanging on the wall. It's a travesty. "Holy shit! I look like a dead rat."

"Language." John says with Dean's mouth moving in time to John's words looking thoroughly amused.

"He must like you. He hasn't taken soap and a scrubbing brush to your mouth kid."

Amusement falls flat. "I haven't been a kid in a long time." The tired words escape my mouth before I get a chance to examine them.

John walks in and nudges me to the table. "If nothing else, I'm going to put 20 lbs on you." His low voice rumbles against my back and suddenly I'm feeling my father at my back and his voice in my ear. I feel that sense of well being and protection my father once afforded me and feel a moment of weakness in my knees. It's been so long. I grab for the dresser for balance. As though the orientation of the planet just shifted.

"You okay?" John looks at my face.

Having to rapidly blink back tears, I nod. Reality returns as quickly as the dream appeared and the world throws back to chaos. I'm a street kid without a future and it's probably just a matter of time before I turn into a meth head or crackwhore blowing balding old white guys with missing teeth. Why? Because that's what monsters like me really deserve. Reality's a bitch.

What little appetite I had is crushed before I even sit down at the table. The frog in my throat certainly doesn't help. How do you get food past a frog in your throat? To my surprise, Dean takes a seat across from me. I stare at him. He looks pretty damn comfortable sitting there watching me. "What are you doing?"

"Doing what I was told to do."

"What's that?"

"Stick to you like white on rice."

I can feel my face darken. I look at John who is putting his jacket on and heading out.

"Where're you going?"

"Get documentation for you placing me as legal guardian."

"Make me their sister and when I ride Sam's bicycle, the school can get their knickers in a twist over incest and sexual abuse. Sounds like fun. Can't wait."

Dean snorts but quickly stops when he sees the look John shoots him.

"You have two jobs today." John stands domineering over me. "Dean needs to see you eat 2000 calories and help Dean move rooms. He's in charge, do as he says. Cause a raucous with social services getting' involved and we'll have you in a straight jacket and locked up faster than you can say it's not fair." Disturbingly enough, his eyes are serious and I get the odd sense that he isn't bluffing.

"Uh, sure."

"Yessir," he says.

"What?"

"You'll address me as sir as a sign of respect."

"I don't even respect me, why'd I respect you?"

He stares at me for a minute. "You gotta start somewhere. Dean," he says the young man's name loaded with meaning. Dean gives a short nod that gives the full impression of competence.

John leaves locking the door behind him unnecessarily and Dean nudges the bowl on the table toward me.

I look at him and calculate what I think I can get away with. "You always do what you're told? You his cocker spaniel?"

"I hear talkin' when I should be hearing cereal crunching." He pours the cereal into the bowl for me. He hasn't given me anything to work with.

A dirty idea occurs to me. "I have better ideas for how to spend our time. We could play pirates. You could be the captain and I'll be-"

"You're down to skin and bones. Until you put some weight on, ain't no one gonna wanna sleep with you." He snaps impatiently at me.

"Ouch!" I mock him. "Only, I've been given enough offers in the past week that I do know that there are men who wanna sleep with this bag of bones."

"You take any of them up on that offer?"

"Hundreds."

"Then that settles it for me. I definitely don't want you sleeping with my baby brother. Now eat your breakfast."

It only takes twenty minutes to move the Winchester's belongings to the new motel room. A two bedroom suite with a cot in the living room. When we finish, he tells me it's time to go get something to eat. Under the hot sun, we walk on the shoulder of a narrow highway into town. He ties his shirt around his waist giving me a good view of in his toned arms and shoulders and slim waist wearing just a white undershirt.

I look down at my own body. I did develop some curves before but I never manage the appetite to get the slight curves that I once had in my 14 year old body. I can't measure up his body. I guess he's about 20 years old and extremely fit. I didn't get a good look at Sam but he's probably just as well fed and fit.

Feelings of inadequacy rear up. I'm a stupid, uneducated homeless kid with sadistic tendencies. What on earth are the Winchester's doing wasting their time on a lost cause for?

"How did you... you know? Get out." Dean asks awkwardly.

"I really don't know. Get out of what?"

"How did the possession end? Did it just move on? What happened?"

I shrug. There's a subject I'm never, ever going to talk about.

He senses I'm not going to answer him and moves on. "What was it like?"

"Like being reprogrammed to be a sadistic serial killer. You know your Dad's completely crazy keeping me in that motel with you?" I feel a trickle of sweat run down the side of my face and swipe at it with my shoulder.

"John's pretty good at judging people."

"I'd never keep someone like me around my baby sister."

His next step pauses slightly before he continues beside me. "You have baby sister?"

"Had. I used her intestines for party streamers around our living room."

"You didn't do that. The demon did that."

"The line between that demon and me faded a long time ago, Dean. Those monsters you hunt, I'm more than halfway there. Don't trust me."

"I hear a lot of talk about how evil you are but I don't see any symptoms."

I snort. "You think everything I did wrong is while I was a possessed? Other hunters don't give up on teenage girls for nothing."

"Alright, what'd you do to Martin to get him to give up?"

"I slipped him cyanide." I just wanted to scare him. Make him sick. Instead, I put him in hospital. I honestly didn't expect him to track me down after that, let alone send someone to stop me from getting myself killed hunting.

Dean comes to a dead stop. "You are never going to be left in charge with the food. You hear that?"

Shrugging, I walk ahead of him. "Anyone that's tried to help me has regretted it." Dean takes on a more serious tone and doesn't speak for the rest of the walk. It hurts. But it's better he knows the truth. It's a matter of time before I stop killing monsters and start killing people. A tiny face flashes before I shove it back down. If I were smart, I'd kill myself. But it's a lot harder to do than you'd think. Even for a murderer. Murder doesn't feel like a bad thing to do until I'm faced with other peoples reactions. Then it seems so startlingly obvious, I wonder how I got confused.

Dean pulls out a five dollars and looks annoyed at it. "Forgot to get cash off him before he left." He mutters. He leads the way in and buys fresh bread rolls, deli cut salami and a bottle of coke. We sit outside the grocery store on a knee high brick wall and he splits it with me.

When we finish, he throws the garbage out in a trash can. "Leave now and we'll be the High School before Sammy gets out."

"Sam can't walk himself home?"

"Usually I drive but Dad's truck is in the shop right now."

"So, why are we walking a sixteen year old home?"

"I'm not sitting in the motel room staring at ugly wallpaper for any more hours than I have to. If you weren't here, I'd play pool or pick up chicks or target practice. Those options aren't on the table right now. Why? Are you tired?"

"No! I'm not tired." I'm not weak or helpless. I'm never going to be helpless again. I'm never going to be to weak to take action again. If he can keep going, so can I.

"Okay then, now that we have that cleared up. Let's go."

I'm pretty gross by the time we reach the high school. I haven't had a shower since I broke into a house in a bedroom community a few days ago. My bag was left in a stairwell, so I don't have my deodorant or toothbrush and toothpaste. A couple of hours walking in the sun, pouring with sweat and I'm embarrassed by how filthy I am. I regret refusing to take a shower earlier. Now I'd be willing to do it even though I don't have a clean change of clothes.

As we stand in the parking lot, I realize I don't remember what Sam looks like. Brunette. Um... Was he taller than me? Maybe? When the bell rings my eyes dart everywhere trying to find a familiar face.

"You coming?"

I look back and see a skinny guy about my height is standing next to Dean. Right. Sam. Okay. "Yeah," I agree.

They look amused. "You couldn't remember what he looks like." Dean smirks.

"I'm not very good at remember names and faces." I admit.

"So if we ditched you in a crowd right now..." Sam leaves an open ended statement.

"I don't remember what my family looked like." I admit.

"You don't remember?"

I change the subject. "Can we go already? I need a shower. I'm starting to smell _like Jenna Jameson's crotch__here."_

Dean chuckles and Sam blushes and ducks his head. He's really cute. I consider that I'm going to a much better job of remembering his face in future.

"Look at that, Sammy knows who she is." I tease and start walking ahead.

"Julia!"

I stop and look back. Dean smirks. "That way."

I look where he's pointing and realize I'm going the wrong way. "Fuck."

"Language." Dean answers and starts walking with Sam in tow.

I mutter explicit curses under my breath to myself while Sam tells Dean all about his world politics class on the way back to the motel.


	2. Being Tested

Disclaimer: Julia Wright, John Winchester, Dean Winchester and Sam Winchester are not my original characters. You knew that already but I'm going to point out that they belong to Kripke and company anyway.

AN: Finished editing the next chapter. Let me know what you think, please and thank you.

Chapter 2

When we get in, Sam pours himself milk and I head straight for the bathroom. Dean blocks my path. "Milk and cookies first."

"Shower first."

"Food first, shower after."

Angry at being ordered around, I pull my shirt up over my head and take my bra off.

Dean's eyes widen with alarm. "What're you doing?"

"Getting ready for my shower." I undo my jeans and ease them down over my hips.

Sam blushes.

"Put your clothes back on!"

"Fuck you." I snap my bra undone.

"What is wrong with you?" Dean splutters.

I take my bra and panties off and bend down to pick my clothes up off the floor. I walk toward the bathroom and Dean has to move aside or touch my naked body. Just as I expected, he backs away.

"Don't think for a second I'll be too embarrassed to tell John about this!"

"I'll eat the milk and cookies after my shower." I throw over my shoulder as I walk into the bathroom.

I hear Dean's sound anguished irritation as I shut the door. That was fun. I take a cold shower and enjoy my body cooling down and taking off the sludge that has collected on my skin. There isn't any conditioner but the shampoo is appreciated. When I'm clean, I wash my clothes in the shower with me using the same bar of soap I used on me. When I finish, I squeeze the water out of my clothes as best I can and hang them on an empty towel rack to dry.

The towels are very big, but I manage to wrap one around my body covering me from breasts to mid-thigh. When I walk out Dean is watching television and Sam is in one of the bedrooms with the door open while he does his homework.

"Do you like showing your body off to men you don't even know?" Dean narrows his eyes at me.

"I'm used to it."

"They shouldn't be, you're underage."

I laugh at that idea. "You gonna help me track them down and gouge their eyes out with spoons?"

He has a visceral reaction to my solution. "What? No! I mean stop showing it to every tom, dick and harry!"

A lot of what I've said to the Winchester's has been met without reaction. It's satisfying to finally get a strong reaction from one of them. "Every tom, dick and harry?" Before I can say more, the motel room door opens.

"What's this about every tom, dick and harry?" The old hunter asks as he walks in.

"She stripped in front of us before she took a shower." Dean explains looking peeved.

John frowns. "We're gonna need t' work on your modesty girl. I've got other things to talk to you about."

"Such as?"

"I went t' have a little talk with Martin Creaser."

Not sure what else to say, I mouth 'oh.'

"That's right, 'oh'." John says without an ounce of humour to be detected in his voice. "You lied about being a hooker and sleepin' around."

He can't know that for sure. I could have been doing a lot of things since I last saw Martin. What information is he drawing his conclusions from? "What did he tell you?"

The man looks much older when I ask that question. "More'n I wanted to know, sweetheart. Boys, give us some privacy." Sam and Dean leave while I go into the bedroom to put some clothes on.

Sam and Dean head out the door, Sam's homework in hand as Dean tries not to be too obvious about his curiosity. I wish they would stay so I could avoid this conversation, but I'm glad they're not here is this conversation is unavoidable.

I take a seat at the table and stare at the milk and cookies.

"You manage 2000 calories today?" He asks me.

Oh. That. "Ummm..."

"You eat, I'll do the talkin' to start with."

"When Martin found you, he said you were raising all hell in a police station about a hauntin' that they thought was a string of burglaries." I don't deny this. I didn't know about hunters when I met Martin. I didn't know I wasn't the only one that knew about this other world. "He took you under his wing and gave you a place to sleep. Finished the hunt. Then looked into your history. It wasn't too long after you escaped the demon, sulphur was still in the farmhouse. Along with the bodies of his victims. Found an empty bag of salt and salt spilled all over the floor. Vomit. He matched your fingerprints to the bodies and found materials he had to send into a forensics expert he knows. Seems you had a baby. Mind telling me who the father is? 'Cause the evidence looks like you were possessed but your family were brutally murdered before you could'a gotten pregnant. So, you got pregnant after you were taken by the demon."

I give up pretending to eat my cookie and put it down on my plate. A tiny face confronts me and I mentally beat its face in, back into the box I keep it in.

"Took a lotta favours to find out you gave the baby up for adoption. Now..." he takes a long pause as though trying to find the right words. "I've never seen a story of a girl or woman get pregnant while possessed by a demon. Evidence points to the demon riding you for 9 months, carrying to term and then you performing a self-exorcism. That's some determination you got there. What's botherin' me about this is, why would a demon go to all this trouble to hold onto a girl all through a pregnancy. Demons ride bodies to death. They don't keep 'em in perfect health for carry a baby to term." He leans forward in his seat and makes eye contact with me.

"Martin tried to get an answer you and you slipped cyanide in his mornin' coffee. He called in Victor Rogers and you had a psychotic break on the man. Broke his arm with a lamp stand. So... when I say I understand you don't wanna talk 'bout this, I'm not understatin' it. I really do understand you don't want to talk 'bout it. Problem is... I'm pretty worried about the evidence I'm lookin' at here. We have a girl who was probably a virgin being taken possession of by a demon. We have a demon that goes out of it's way to get her pregnant and carry a healthy baby to term. And we've got some very old books talking about a half human and half demonic child. Tell me if I'm hot or cold."

Pursing my lips, I stare back at him. He's the first one to put all of the pieces of the puzzle together and come up with... "I don't tell anyone because no one would believe me."

"We're talkin' demons here hon'. Anyone that knows about demons, knows enough to listen to you."

"I'm a liar."

"Not about this you're not. Am I right?"

I take a deep breath and say something I haven't dared say before. "There wasn't any... sex. I just... I just got pregnant. Like Mary with Jesus. Only there was this sick monster in my head. So I knew it couldn't be good. I knew it had to be evil. I had a job to do. When it was born... I was gonna kill it." A wave of emotion flushes over me. "I saw just how evil Bruno was in my head. And this baby couldn't be human. So it's evil. I thought this is the next Hitler. I'll do what's right and kill it at birth." The pain in my chest is so thick and heavy, it's hard to draw in breaths of air. I'm flat out crying now. Just like a little kid. And he's looking at me sympathetically. I don't deserve sympathy. I failed. "But I couldn't do it. I was weak. I gave that baby to some family and he's gonna do something horrible some day. I know it. And I just let it happen." I break down crying and speaking unintelligible words.

I see John through my tears getting up to come around and give me a hug and I wave him off. I can't deal with this. I don't want or deserve forgiveness or compassion or empathy or sympathy or anything. I want and deserve to be called out for keeping that thing safe. Just because it looked like a baby, doesn't mean it's a baby. But a part of me insists it is my baby. And that's the part of me I'm most ashamed of. That's the weak part that I can never forgive. The moment that girl is forgiven, I'm no longer just an accessory to whatever crimes that baby commits some day, I'm condoning it. So much guilt that I don't even know what to do with it, seems to be coming down on me like a building coming down on me in a mega earthquake. How could I have allowed this to happen?

John's arms are around me and he is trying to comfort me. It would be a comfort if I didn't feel even worse that he feels the need to comfort me for what I did not only to myself but everyone else.

"You're a kid. You weren't responsible for making that decision. You went above and beyond kickin' that demon outta you. I've never seen someone do that before." He speaks in soft tones in my ear. I wonder if this is how he spoke to his sons when they were little. That's how my Dad- I cut that thought short as I remember how I killed him. I'm not allowed to think about them either.

Minutes pass before I finally manage to regain some semblance of control. When he talks to me again, his eyes are concerned but his voice as returned to a normal tone.

"Stop trying to vilify yourself. Me and Martin have scoured everything we can find about you and there's nothing here that incriminates you in our eyes. You've made mistakes. You have done things you aren't proud of, but you're a kid and you did the best you could with what you had and you weren't too shabby. I'm gonna work with you to get back into normal life. You've picked up that demon's thought and language patterns. We'll help you clean that up and when you're ready, you can be a sixteen year old girl again."

That's an impossibility, but I smile anyway.

Sam and Dean return twenty minutes later when I'm in bed. John must have thought I was asleep when he started talking to them.

"What I tell you, is none o' your business. The only reason I'm telling you both is because this girl needs my help. I'm going to need your help to. She's probably gonna act out and be unreasonable sometimes. I'm not saying you have to put up with it. But you need to know her anger is a good thing. I don't wanna kill that anger cause it's all that's keepin' her goin' until she can find something worth living for. You understand me?" There is a long pause.

I hold my breath in case there was a response but I was breathing too loudly to hear it.

"No. What do you mean? What does she need from us?"

"I mean that girl is vilifying herself and punishing herself and wants people to hate her. She didn't do anything wrong. A demon did a lot of things wrong and it just happened to be possessing her when it did those things." There is silence. Is it a pause or is he done? "When she stripped earlier, I'd guess it was a mix of anger and lack of self-respect and intended to make you think less of her. I won't tell you the details because it's private. But respectful even when she doesn't respect herself. I know you two can handle that right?"

"Yessir." They answer in unison.

I'm left with a lot of thoughts but without any order. Like I'm playing pin the tail on the donkey, I'm trying to find my way to the poster of the donkey but I'm probably walking into the street with a blindfold on. Nowhere near the damn poster.

The sun is still up, but somehow, I'm tired enough to pass out and I don't wake until morning.

The next few days pass by without me really being aware of the passage of time. Some of my deepest darkest secrets exposed in one fell swoop. It takes me some time to put that behind me.

Friday John tells me he has registered for me to go to school with faked documentation as the orphaned daughter of a friend of the family, with John as my legal guardian. He's gone in to speak with them about emotional problems and being behind in my school work. Monday they want me to go in to take a test to figure out where I am in my school work and to see the school guidance counsellor.

I don't want to go. But seeing the amount of work he must have done to get legitimate looking documentation and phone numbers for the school to call to confirm, it's hard to throw it back in face. So hard, that I don't.

"Are you going to be okay?" Sam asks me. His handsome face looking keenly alert to my own face. As though watching and waiting for me to crack.

I look around. "Yeah." Why wouldn't I be okay?

"You've been standing there staring at a blank wall for twenty minutes."

"Oh." He seems to be waiting for me to say more. "I... guess I got lost in my thoughts." There isn't much you can say to that.

"Dad's gonna take care of you you know? The demon won't come back."

"Where's your mother?" She's not here. If they were divorced, she would never allow them to live with their father while he hunts. She's probably dead.

"She died when I was small."

"What killed her?"

"A house fire."

I roll my eyes at the obvious way he skirted my question. "People don't get into hunting because of simple house fires. What did it?"

Sam lowers his eyes. "It wasn't human."

"He loved her and he couldn't protect her. Odds aren't in my favour." John definitely doesn't love me. The people who loved me were ripped to pieces over many hours by my own hands. Listening to their screams of agony.

Sam glares at me. "That's not a fair assessment. He knew nothing about the supernatural world when she died. He could have stopped it if he had known. Now he knows, he won't let anything happen to you."

I don't want to talk about this any more. I want him to go away. I choose to repulse him. "Want a blow job?"

His mouth falls open, slams shut and he blushes as he hurries back into his room shutting the door behind him.

"Is that a no or maybe another time?" I ask through the door.

"You shouldn't make fun of me like that." Comes his muffled voice.

"I wasn't making fun." I like him. I would never make fun of him. I just...

"And that's enough of that conversation. Let's go for a walk." Dean wraps an arm around my shoulders directing me to the front door.

"I'm sorry, I don't recall offering you one. You think I'm an unattractive bag of bones, remember?" He leads me out the door grabbing a jacket in the early evening weather.

He swallows hard. "You don't make it easy to watch out for you."

"I'm going to fail." That was out of nowhere. Even for me.

"What?" I don't blame him for being confused. I wasn't very eloquent. Eloquent? For a moment I notice how my diction resembles Bruno's even without him in my head any more. I hate that. Déjà vu on hating my diction resembling Bruno's.

"School. I can't do it. I haven't seen the inside of a school since I was 14. I don't remember how to do it. I don't know how to deal with people like a normal person. I didn't want to deal with Sam any more so I said the first thought that came to mind that would get rid of him. Those are not the thoughts of a normal girl. I'm going to screw up like that at school."

He points to the bench out front of the rental office and we both take a seat perched on the backrest. "You got another way of ending a conversation with someone?"

"I could tell them that I'm going to reach down their throat and rip out their lungs."

Dean coughs and then starts laughing. "That's a death threat. You aren't allowed to utter those at school. Trust me, I tried that and found out the hard way."

I feel a little better until it occurs to me that he said it for a different reason. "Were you trying to end a conversation?"

"Kid hit Sam. I wanted to make sure he didn't so much as look at Sam again."

So he had a good reason. I would want to threaten them for pressing a topic that I'm uncomfortable with. That's not a good reason. "How would you end a conversation you don't want to have any more?" He'll probably have better ideas.

"Did you consider just saying you don't want to talk about this?"

"They'll realize it's a point of vulnerability."

Dean nods in understanding. "I guess it isn't so different for girls than it is for guys, huh?"

"How should I know? I haven't hung out with teenage girls in so long I don't remember how."

He smiles. I look up at the sky where the sun just set. A slight purple afterglow is slipping down on the black sky. "You're gonna have to learn better ways to change the subject. Compliments tend to work. You can practice on me." He says smugly.

A long silence follows as I struggle to find an appropriate compliment. Bruno's backhanded compliments come immediately to mind but I can't use those. What do people compliment each other on?

"Don't strain yourself." Dean huffs sounding a little insulted by inability to compliment him.

"No! It's not that." Bruno watched too much porn as I remember so much of it replaying in his head. Or did he just replay it to upset me? "What do normal people compliment? Because all the compliments I recall are about the size of men's cocks and how tight women's..." I trail off as I see the look on his face.

He clears his throat. "I recommend that you don't go to school complimenting dicks and vagina's. Try keeping compliments above the shoulders. Like that should be the rule. Compliments above the shoulders."

"What is there to compliment above the shoulders? Lips for suck-"

"Umm no! No. Don't compliment that either. Scratch that. Above the shoulders isn't a good rule either. Think hairstyles, white teeth, earrings, that sort of thing."

"You have lovely white teeth."

"There you go. Just like that. You wont fail. And even if you do, Sam's there and I'm right down the road."

This is pathetic. I'm disgusted with myself. I'm getting advice and support for the first day of school and it isn't even the first day. This is just a test to start with. I groan as I put my head in my hands.

"What?"

"There are way scarier things in the world than school and I'm actually nervous about it."

"That's good."

"That's good?"

"It means you actually care. Like a normal kid having normal worries. It means there's hope for you yet."

"You think?" I'm annoyed with myself when I hear my voice.

He smiles softly at me. "You've got a lot of good thingsl to look forward to Julia. You've got a lot to fight for. Try your best in that test. Your vocabulary isn't low. You seem intelligent enough to me. Maybe they'll let you do some catch up work to get you up to your grade and you can start Junior year."

Hope surges up I feel like I'm being thrown around on a rollercoaster. "You think so?"

"I tell you what, give it your best shot. If it works, that's great. If it doesn't, I'm here for you if you're disappointed. You can cry on me or whatever junk you girls need to do when you're sad. Does that sound worth it?"

I chew on my lip. This is setting myself up for heartbreak, but Dean says he'll help me cope. "How do I know you'll come through..."

"You can trust me Julia. I won't let you fall."

"I don't trust anyone."

"You trust us enough to fall asleep around us."

"I know you guys aren't going to do anything to me while I'm sleeping."

"Then you can trust me to be here if the test doesn't turn out how you wanted it to." I look into his eyes and somehow, I know he isn't just dicking with me. He's serious. I wont know if he's trustworthy until I trust him.

"Okay, it's a deal." I hold my hand out to him and we shake on it.

"You know what would be awesome?"

"What's that Dean?"

"If you tested higher than Sam. I'd love to see someone do better than him on this stuff." He stands up and offers me a hand. "Ready to go back to the trenches?"

I accept his hand up. "Yeah, I guess."

"Let's get ready for bed."

Monday morning is surreal. Sam is eating breakfast at the table while I hurl my guts up in the toilet. John holds my hair back while he strokes my back.

"You can do this Julia. Just calm down a bit."

All of a sudden it's real. It's too real. I know how to cope with monsters. I don't know how to handle teenagers. I mean, Sam can give me witheringly devastating looks that John and Dean can't hold a candle to. It's probably because he's a teenager.

Another dry wretch causes me to cough up clear bile. This is embarrassing. This shouldn't be scarier than the pack of skinwalkers. Probably because the worst thing the skinwalkers could do to me is kill me. Teenagers can do so much worse. They can ostracise and socially crush on a whim.

"Julia, I gotta go, but Dean's gonna get you to school okay?"

"I'm fine."

"Right... Dean, you got..."

"Yeah," I feel Dean's hands replace John's.

"It's okay," my stomach rolls and more stomach acid comes up. "I'm done here." And when I'm done here, I can go to school. With that thought, my stomach heaves again.

"Did you throw up your first day of Grade 8?" Dean inquires.

I shake my head. "Threw up on my teacher first day of kindergarten."

"Nice. Bet she loved that." He says approvingly. "I'm going with you. It's only the test today."

Arms feeling a little rubbery from supporting myself over the toilet, I push up to use the sink. Dean releases my hair and flushes the toilet for me. I brush my teeth, self-conscious of my audience.

"This really has you nervous huh?"

"I was a dork at school. I still had my barbies."

"You still had barbies in Grade 8?" I narrow my eyes at him and he backs off.

"I wasn't with it then, it's gonna be even worse."

"Don't let the kids know you give a shit." Dean winks at me.

Unconvinced, I smile back anyway and go get my jacket. Sam said this school has AC and they blast it. When I reach the front door Sam's ready to go and waiting on us. The drive to school is Sam and Dean bickering about nothing. We drop Sam off and then park up the Impala. Dean walks me to the office. More like he struts than walks. That cannot be his normal walk. Then I notice the girls looking at him. He's enjoying the attention.

At least while he's strutting like that, they're too busy staring at him to notice me. Maybe I can coast by unseen. In the office we're directed to sit by the secretary's. The national anthem plays and school announcements come on. It feels even more surreal. A scene from another life that I haven't experienced for more than two years now comes to the fore.

"You're her legal guardian?" The secretary asks frowning over the counter at us.

"No, that would be my father ma'am." He has a quick, friendly and easy smile ready for her. I watch as she almost preens from his attention. That pretty boy face of him is quite the tool. "He couldn't be here but I'm a legal adult and I'm lending some moral support."

The secretary nods understandingly. "I'm sure it's rough coming back after such a long absence from your education." I want to ask what she knows. My paranoia is in full swing. How much is on paper and how much was exclusively shared with the Principal and School guidance counsellor?

Dean gives me a meaningful look and I mumble in reply: "Yes ma'am."

"Poor girl, let's get this test started then. Mrs Catrelli said it's two hours long and should help us place her correctly. Just so you know, if need be, I'm sure they can organize a home curriculum. We've done that before for a troubled teen." Please! Do this! Forget doing the test and send us home with the paperwork!

She leads the way to an empty classroom where a man sits at a desk marking papers. "Miss McGillicutty, I understand?" He offers a gentle smile. I have to pause to remember my fake surname.

Dean squeezes my shoulder before I pass through the doors. "I'll come back in an hour and a half in case you finish early." He calls out.

Time is up far sooner than I'm prepared and I'm off-kilter leaving the classroom. I'm sent back to the office during class change. I get lost and soon find myself standing in an unfamiliar high school corridor among a stream of unfamiliar students and if we're being honest here, I'm about ready to have a panic attack.

"Need some help?"

"Fuck me, I don't know where I'm going." I turn to see who is talking to me, I see a guy who looks like he belongs on the football team looking taken aback. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean to say that out loud."

He chuckles. "Where are you trying to get to?"

He has a nice smile. "The office."

"You're new here." He smirks pointing in a direction and begins to lead the way.

"Yeah." Yeah? That's a great line. Cute guy comes along, willing to help you out of a jam and you say: Yeah. I'm not happy with myself at all.

"What grade are you in?"

"Not sure yet." He raises an eyebrow. "Long stupid story. What grade are you in?"

He looks curious but answers my question. "I'm a senior."

"Julia." I recognize Sam's voice sounding a little stern. "Where're you going?"

"Um... I'm looking for the office. He's going to help me find it." I point to the guy leading me as Sam stares coldly at him. The guy looks like he just got caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

"This your brother or somethin'?" He tries to play it off indifferently.

"Not my brother. But his Dad is my legal guardian." I explain.

"Matt, this isn't the way to the office." Sam says darkly and grabs my hand and drags me along behind him. Suddenly he's a lot stronger than I realized as I stumble behind him.

"What did you say to him?'

"W-w-what?"

"You can't trust Matt. It would help if you told me exactly what you said to him."

"Ummm fuck me, I'm lost."

Sam comes to a dead stop and stares down at me in horror before his jaw tightens and he starts marching, pulling me along behind him again. We're in the office pretty quickly. Dean raises an eyebrow.

"She got lost on her way to the office and got an unhelpful hand from the resident school pervert." Sam hisses at Dean. "Keep an eye on her." He takes off before Dean can defend himself.

Dean frowns with concern. "You okay?"

"I think I fucked that up pretty good."

Dean shrugs. "Now you know which guy to avoid in school for future reference."

"Julia? Oh there you are. Did you get lost dear? We were expecting you here awhile ago."

I nod. "Okay, well Miss Mason is ready for you third door down."

Dean gives me a nod of encouragement and I walk into the open room and shut the door behind me. "Hello Miss McGillicutty. My name is Miss Mason. I just need to talk to you about your family."

"I don't have one." I point out.

"You live with Mr John Winchester? He's your legal guardian yes?"

I nod.

"Then they're your new family." She smiles sweetly. "How are you liking your new home?"

What kind of question is that? "They're nice."

There's that smile, trying her best to encourage me to talk. Lady, I just met you seconds ago. I don't know you from Jack Shit. I'm not telling you anything. "Your parents passed away two years ago and you haven't been to school since. What can you tell me about that?"

I remember the rehearsed answer, but decide to use my own words. John thought it best to use familiar names so I would be less likely to slip up. "Bruno was a dick. Shit, I swore. Um... Bruno was nasty."

"Did you ever try calling children's aid?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Fair enough. It's okay. I'm not going to make you do anything you don't want to do Julia." Well, that's nice. I can live with that. "Do you have any plans?"

"Going back to school." That's the full extent of my plans right now.

She smiles again. That's getting annoying. I'm not a little kid. "Do you have hopes for the future?"

"Graduating."

"Well, that's manageable. John was worried that he moves quite a bit. Does that bother you?"

I swallow. He's planning on moving? Will he bring me with him? "No." United front.

"He was worried it might hurt your recovery and harm your education." John's been a lot more honest with them than I realized. Is it possible he is making an honest go of using school resources to help me? He sure doesn't use the schools that way for Dean and Sam. At least, it doesn't seem that way. Maybe he's planning on getting me to decent health and then leaving me at this school when he's ready to change towns.

"I'm fine."

"You want to stay with John. That's okay. That's a good thing. You've found somewhere you want to be. His son, Sam is an excellent student. As much as John moves, he must take education seriously."

There isn't anything to say to that. It's a statement. "Are we almost done here?"

"Yeah, I think that's a good start. I have a good therapist in mind to recommend to-"

"Therapists cost money." I blurt out. "Don't make me expensive on the Winchester's."

"You think John will give you to someone else if you cost too much money?"

I look down at my feet. "I'm a lot of work to keep around." I say honestly.

"Is that what John told you?"

"I know that. John doesn't have to say anything. Can I go now?"

She gives me a long look. "Yes, that should be enough for now."

I'm out of my seat before she can finish the sentence, I spot Dean and march toward him. "I can go now."

"Wait, I need to talk to the receptionist. Confirm when we get the results from your test."

An uncomfortable frog has formed in my throat and my voice is getting husky. "I need to go. We can call."

He looks seriously at me and waves at someone before he leaves with me. I walk fast back to the car.

"What did she say to you?"

"Nothing."

"You're all worked up over nothing?"

"Yes."

Dean drives me back to the motel.

That week, Dean picks up materials from school to help me catch up. Apparently, I'm not that bad off except in math. My math is still at Grade 9 level, but I was told that if I completed everything else, I could do the rest of my classes with the Grade 11's. Colour me surprised. Dean takes me out for ice cream to celebrate. He said it would have been beer if I had beat Sam.

Catching up on the work for Grade 11 isn't too bad. I'm actually still pretty good at school work. But the math required to start Grade 9 makes my brain feel like it is going to explode.

"It's a bow tie, remember?" Sam points out again. "Work the numbers down and across and then up and across. Both sides should be the same."

"But I have the answer on here."

"You haven't confirmed it. Until you check it, it could still be wrong."

"I hate this." I would like to take a large knife and stab the books.

"You're not being asked to like it Julia." Sam says as he watches me intently at the kitchen table.

Something stirs low in my stomach when he looks at me. I jerk back. I remember Bruno making me feel things low in my belly. Things that made my panties wet. Things that hurt people. I judge myself for all those times I got off on other people suffering. A smaller voice tells me these were things that Bruno got off on while wearing my body, but that thought it brushed aside all too soon. I judge myself for feeling turned on when Sam is trying to help me. And with that condemnation, images of Sam below me while I ride rodeo take hold in full breathtaking vividness. And once I've thought it, it's a mess trying to pull it out of my head. Warm wetness takes hold and I'm squirming uncomfortably in my seat. I want to stab the books. I want to hurt something. I want to unleash... something!

"What?" I must have said something because Sam is looking at me in question.

I think we should go fuck. Yeah, that's a great idea, I think sarcastically. My face turns red as I struggle to cope with sudden extreme horniness wrapped in guilt and shame. Did I say something out loud? Paranoia comes down on me hard. He knows, I think. And the familiar sensation of sexual desire wrapped in guilt and shame makes me want to- I cut that thought off. "I was-I'm-I didn't mean to."

"You didn't mean to what?"

If he saw my thoughts right now he'd be disgusted with me. Dean doesn't want me thinking about his baby brother that way. I'm filthy.

"Can we pick this up later?"

"The sooner we get this done-" I don't know what to do with this squirming need. I haven't felt it since Bruno was possessing me and he always indulged. All of my nerve endings are screaming to cause Sam pain to deliver my release. That is so wrong. I shouldn't want to hurt Sam. I should want to do nice things to him. Next thing I know I'm kissing Sam across the table and fumble around to get to him. To my surprise, he doesn't push me away. He kisses me back.

"I need it." I tell him when he starts kissing a line down my throat. Our bodies press together and he feels so good. Bruno would have cut him open by now. I don't want to see Sam cut open. I want normal. I want him to fill me.

"Oh God," he moans as my hands undo his belt in a large hurry. I'm racing to get on him like it's the motherfucking Olympics, my hands reach down and-

"Whoa! Hey now! We'll have none of that." I hear Dean's voice as he returns to the room and pulls us apart.

I flush with shame as I pull away from Sam. "I'm sorry! I shouldn't have touched him. I need... Dean help me." Need is screaming through my veins. I need sex or violence or both. I need release.

"Help you how?"

The words spill out unbidden. "I-I need to fuck or fight or I think I'm gonna explode. Meltdown. Something bad's gonna happen." I'm agitated and moving and I don't know what to do. "I don't wanna hurt anyone. He's gonna make me hurt someone." I grab Dean's face and start kissing him.

He pulls away and grabs my wrists. "It's okay. Julia, it's okay. You don't need to do either. Just let it out."

How do I let it out? I'm feeling... what am I feeling? I feeling... I can't do it and I need release before I explode. "I can't-I can't. Dean? I feel-" too my surprise I break down crying again. What is wrong with me? Strangely Dean pulls me into a hug and tucks my head into his shoulder.

"You feel frustrated with the homework." Dean says. "It's okay to feel frustrated Julia."

Yes! That's what I'm feeling. That's the word. I'm frustrated and I need to vent. I shove him away and run into the bathroom.

"You 'kay?" I hear Dean ask Sam.

"Aside from the raging boner, yeah. She done that to you before?"

"No, she's never touched me."

I gave Sam a raging hard on? That thought renews that wet, warm sensation in my body. Yeah, I'd like to do something about that. I take my shorts and underwear off and imagine Sam entering me. I start off stroking gently but soon enough I'm rubbing hard and it's not enough friction. I remember how that one man impaled me with his tongue-

No, I won't think about that. I'm thinking about Sam. How he felt when we touched. I imagine the sound of him panting in my ear. I imagine his long lean body pressed against mine. My imagination takes off and I can imagine it so clearly it's almost palpable. How he would jerk into me at speed. How he would rush to an orgasm. And I can almost hear him grunt when he comes. The thought of that sound pulls me over the edge. "Sam!" I cry out breathlessly.

I hear Dean's laughter and while I'm embarrassed they just heard me, he sounds light-hearted and playful about it and not disgusted. The thought of me crushing on his brother doesn't upset him that much then. It must sound messed up, but I'm grateful for that.

Washing up, I leave the bathroom. Dean smirks but it feels like he's in on the secret with me. Sam is nowhere to be found. I think he's too shy to come out just now. How about you show me what you guys were working on that got you so hot and bothered?"

"Grade 9 math." I tell him.

He laughs. "I'll take a look at it with you. Maybe I'll remember something from it."

Later that night I overhear them talking in the next room. "I know it's not fair Sam. Girl you like has a crush on you, willing to sleep with you but you can't have her. She does something like that again, I need to ask you to keep it in your pants."

"She undid my pants and reached inside them."

"Yeah, I saw that. We only know some of her background. Dad knows at lot more. We do as he said."

"Easy for you to say. You don't want her like I do."

Dean doesn't say anything to that.

AN: Okay, I'll try to have the next page edited ASAP. If you have complaints, this is your best chance to bitch me out.


	3. The Dumbest Mistake

Disclaimer: Stuff belongings to Kripke.

AN: Sex and violence. If you like that kind of thing give me a cheer. If you don't... um... my apologies. I'm not very good at descriptions. I tried to be a little more descriptive in editing. I don't think I pulled it off just yet, because I undid a lot of the descriptions I did try. It'll take practice. It's hard to describe things without me sounding contrived. It's uhhh... pretty explicit in parts. So be warned.

Thanks go out to EarthhAngel for reviewing my chapters. I see more than half the people who viewed chapter one also viewed chapter two. I'll take that as a sign that you think it's okay.

Chapter 3

School has been in session 3 weeks following summer vacation when I finally start my first day of school. I manage to hold back from throwing up this morning but it is still a distinct possibility. I've avoided Sam and he's avoided me since I sexually harassed him (or was that assault?) As I sit beside him in the backseat of the Impala, butterflies stir my stomach. Did he sit in the back seat with me to be closer to me? He could have sat shotgun.

I must have been staring at him because he looks at me and smiles encouragement.

We don't have any classes together. He skipped a grade years back and is a senior already. Another reason for me to feel not good enough for him.

When Dean drops us off, I resist the urge to grab onto Sam's hand. Holding his hand would be entirely infantile. I'm nearly a grown woman. I should be more independent than that. Instead, I look around at the hoard I will be forced to face today. I see an oversupply of denim jeans and overalls and floral print dresses adding splashes of colours. As though there were only four outfits to choose from at the nearest mall. I'm wearing plain shorts and t-shirts John bought me. Given his utilitarian nature you can imagine just how fashionable I look. Not that I was ever fashionable. But at least I have great legs. I can pull off a lot of looks if I show off my legs.

Or maybe I'm just kidding myself about that. What do I know about fashion. Shit, this school is going to eat me alive.

To my surprise, Sam walks me to my first class. I carefully don't comment. I don't want to screw this up again and discourage him. I'm starting to feel like I have someone on my side with him leading the way. Even as strangers look me up and down with judgemental expressions, I'm feeling good. Right up until we reach my classroom and Sam sounds like a bossy dick.

"When class ends, wait here for me. I'll show you to your next class." He tells me. "Don't walk off with random people like Matt again. They aren't going to take you anywhere good." I watch his back as he walks away. I wonder what his ass looks like. Like the rest of the teenage boys here, he wears his pants too low on his hips to get a good look at any outline. I picture sneaking into the bathroom while he's taking a shower and finding a sex god's ass. I notice it's getting warm in the school even with the AC blasting.

I walk into the open door of the classroom where eyes shift to me but pretend to not care. The school isn't that big. I'm not as big news being the new girl as I would be in a smaller town, but I'm definitely news.

"Are you Sam's sister?" A girl asks me abruptly. I don't even look anything like Sam. Is she an idiot? Pausing longer than I should do, I take a moment to say something more polite than calling her an idiot. Crap, I'm kind of a bitch.

"No, I just live with him. His Dad's my legal guardian." If I do manage to hook up with Sam at a later date, I want to make it painfully clear we aren't siblings.

The cute brunette starts to ask another question that I dread. Thankfully, the teacher arrives and cuts her off. "Where are-"

"Okay, everyone sit down. We have a new student. Julia Wright, where are you?"

Standing off to one side I raise my hand meekly. Realizing how meek that was, I resist the urge to ask for a do over. Shit, I'm already failing hard at this. Socializing shouldn't be this hard.

My new teacher nods his head distractedly as he looks down on a piece of paper. "Okay, you can sit... right over here beside Kim." He tells me, pointing to an empty seat behind a black guy looking looking mildly interested in my presence. Kim didn't hear a word of it as she reads a well worn novel.

To my relief, my teacher gives the class quiet reading to do until announcements start. It feels orchestrated to me. As though he knows I've got 'issues' and doesn't want to give them too much time to put me on the spot. I like him already for orchestrating this quiet time. During class whenever a student starts talking to me, he interrupts them. By the end of class, I'm thinking he might just be the best teacher in this school. That wasn't so bad. I can do this as long as teachers set things up so that I don't have to talk.

"Alicia, could you walk Julia to her next class?"

"Sam's coming. He's going to walk me to my next class."

I really should have paid attention to this teachers name, but I still don't know it. You would think the first teacher that I like in this school and I would bother to learn his name. He frowns for a moment but whatever he is thinking, he must think better of it. "He may have you running a little late. I'll write notes for the two of you for the day. Tomorrow, you'll be expected to find your own way around, so don't get too reliant on him."

I nod, resisting the urge to snipe at him. The middle-aged man has been more than fair, he doesn't deserve that.

The class empties out and more students and a teacher show up, just as Sam arrives. Wordlessly he waves me over and I take a spot beside him walking down the busy hallway. He is a man on a mission and people make subtle space for him. I get the impression that he's had confrontations in this school before. Unfortunately, they don't make space for me and I'm forced to walk in his wake, nearly breaking into a run to keep up with him. Each time I see him at school, I seem to end up out of my element and missing large pieces of a bigger picture.

I have a few more classes and Sam walks me to all of them. He says very little to me, barely looking my way. Between Sam's interactions and the kids in my classes, I'm feeling incredibly insecure, inferior, stupid and out of place. I don't belong here. I shouldn't be in school. I should be stealing shit and selling it at pawn shops. With how my mind works, I don't belong in academics. I'm attuned to survival. This place isn't for someone like me. Schools are for people with some basic class. I lost any sense of class behind me a couple of years ago.

By lunch time, I've had enough of looks and whispers. Sam leads me to the cafeteria wordlessly. The table he takes a seat at isn't really cool or nerdy. Just very middle of the road, normal looking guys.

"Kyle, Stu and Brad this is my friend Julia. Julia, these are my friends."

They give polite greetings and I take a seat at the table beside Sam.

"So, what's your story?" Kyle asks.

I look to Sam. "How much did you tell them?"

"Nothing. You only say as much as you're comfortable with Julia. You know that." He offers politely.

Despite my efforts, I doubt I'm doing any good at hiding how nervous I am. I try to think of what to say. Everything escapes me as I'm put on the spot. "I'm... I'm pretty screwed up. That's my story." I stab at my food and start eating. I pretend not to see the look Kyle raises to Sam. Kyle is clearly the leader of this group. I get the uncomfortable sense that he's only letting me sit at this table is because he has hopes of getting in my pants.

"That's all you're gonna tell us?" Kyle asks incredulously.

"Julia..." Sam says with exasperation. "Give it a try." I glance up at him and feel as though he's looking right into me. As though he's really seeing me for the first time. I don't like it. If I were really looking at me, I wouldn't like what I see.

"Guys? You gonna keep speaking in code?" Stu asks.

I'm making things awkward for Sam with his friends. He didn't have to let me sit at this table. I need to fix this. "My parents are dead, I got bounced around for a couple of years. Sam's Dad was kind enough to take custody of me."

"I'm sorry about your parents." Stu tells me sincerely.

Kyle shrugs. "Sorry about your family." Yeah, that wasn't sincere at all. I almost laugh at how Brad doesn't acknowledge any of this conversation. Could I just share a different table with Brad? He's like the kiddy pool of high school socializing.

"Thanks." It feels wrong to thank them, but it seems to be the appropriate response here.

"You decide which topic you're gonna write your English paper on?" Brad changes the topic. So he did feel the awkwardness happening here. I was beginning to think he was immune to all social cues. He looks a lot like Sam only with a heavier build.

With the change in topic, conversation falls into familiar territory and I'm cleanly forgotten. Brad had it called. After we finish eating, one off them pulls out a deck of cards and they teach me a game. Or rather, they try to teach me a game. Once it's made clear that I don't learn new games quickly, it becomes a joke hand. I must have done horribly at it because they don't try another hand.

"What card games do you know?" Kyle asks me.

"Poker and Go Fish."

"Poker?" Kyle grins. "You should've said! I've got a twenty."

"We're not allowed to play poker in the school cafe." Stu points out, eyes shooting around in all directions for any teachers.

"We have a lady at the table."

"I'm not much of a lady." I point out.

Kyle stops shuffling to look at me and smiles broadly. "Even better."

Sam frowns but pulls out his wallet. I should have thought of money. I don't have any. He drops some dollar bills in front of me and Stu immediately drops a couple more where I am. I thank them awkwardly. By the end of the first hand, Stu is probably regretting giving me cash to play. It's obvious that me and Sam know a lot more about poker than the guys do. We're pretty evenly matched in skill.

"Who taught you poker?" Kyle asks conversationally when he's out again.

"Bruno." I answer without looking up from my cards. Trying hard not to be distracted by him, it's not turning out very well.

"He's your old guardian? What was he? Like an uncle or somethin'?"

I still don't look up from my new hand. "Or somethin'."

"How much money did you used to play for?"

"Stakes were never for money."

Sam shoots me a warning look. I respond with an even but dirty look. He might make nice gestures for me at school, but his verbal and non-verbal interactions are almost bitchy. It's like being ordered around by John.

Kyle laughs. "Whoa, that bad huh? Total badassery. Tell me what you gambled for."

I watched Bruno gamble over lives with his lackeys. "Marshmallows. Fluffy white marshmallows." I tell him darkly.

The table laughs.

"The horror." Kyle wriggles his eyebrows.

Just then, the bell rings and the game is over. I hand my winnings to Sam and Stu but both refuse to take them. I pretend it doesn't bother me. Next class is Grade 9 math. I dread it.

Like other things I don't like, I block it out as soon as possible. It went as badly as I expected. The work is too hard and younger students snicker at my presence and epic sloppiness in the subject. I even got called up to the board at one point and messed up simple division at the very beginning of a question making anything I do afterwards null and void.

Drama goes better. I'm partnered with Matt, the guy I met the day I came for the test. He is still as brawny and yummy as I remember. Still, I'm a professional about being partnered with him in class. Absent-mindedly, I wonder why he doesn't already have a partner. But I don't think very long on it.

We're told to write and act a script based around "Cleanliness is next to Godliness." by the end of class. He's very focused on the job at hand. We work together and have a lacklustre script in no time. I have a hard time believing Matt is as bad as Sam said he is. Turns out that we're both actually decent actors even if we aren't very good as writers. We get a good reaction from our class, aka acting audience. I look forward to this class and being partnered with him in future.

"You wanna hang out?" Matt asks me at the end of class as I'm gathering my things.

"I have to go home straight after school."

"To a motel room." Matt states factually. I suppose that's no secret.

"John has to move a lot for work."

"Not your Dad?"

"John is Sam's Dad. My legal Guardian." I offer.

"How are you ever gonna have a life if you don't get a chance to talk to people with moving constantly and a guard dog keeping guys away from you?"

"You mean Sam?"

"Yeah... Sam." He says pointedly.

"You say that like it's a bad thing."

"It's not?"

I move my mouth closer to his ear and whisper. "Maybe I like having Sam as my acting guard dog." I move back and wink at him before turning around to see Sam coming up the hall looking pissed off. Is he angry with me or Matt? Probably both of us. I shouldn't have done that.

"Hi!" I chirp when he reaches us, talking over whatever it is Matt is saying.

He puts a hand to my lower back and guides me back the way he came. "Time to go." His mouth is set in a grim line and I regret whispering in Matt's ear. It seemed funny at the time, but now it looks flirty and inappropriate after Sam's warning.

"My teacher partnered me with him in Drama." I tell him.

He was supposed to walk me home. Instead, he strides home and I scamper behind him trying to keep up. Just like I had to the rest of the day. He hasn't even finished growing. How much harder is it going to be to keep up with him when he reaches full height? I'm not even small. I'm 5'7". I should be able to keep up with him much more easily. It's not like I'm out of shape. I just don't walk that fast. That walking speed is nearly a run.

He goes to his room and slams the door. I hear him pulling books out and figure he's doing his homework. I set up on the kitchen table to do my homework. I'm distracted, watching his door for any sign that he'll be coming back out. But he still hasn't said anything since he told me it was time to go.

It's pathetic really. My entire evening is hinging on a boy. I berate myself right up until the moment his bedroom door opens and I feel like a fucking chihuahua bursting at the seams when he steps out with a small smile. I feel that same flutter of excitement and stupid girliness that someone as cynical as me shouldn't be able to feel.

"I ordered pizza," he tells me quietly. And with that, it seems as though all is forgiven. I don't know what happened, but I'm pleased about it. "Die Hard rerun is on tonight, you wanna watch it with me?"

"Where's Dean?" I haven't finished my homework, but there isn't a chance in hell I'm going to do it with Sam around. There wasn't a chance of me finishing without Sam around either. But with him around, I might get frustrated and jump him again. It's a good excuse not to do homework. Really.

"Dad had to call him to help on a job."

"A job? Why don't you call it a hunt?"

He shrugs. And he's supposed to be the conversational one.

"Yeah, let's watch Die Hard." As we watch, he points out the severity of the injuries John McClane really would have realistically suffered and how long it would have taken to maim or kill him. Pizza arrives and I pig out. We're celebrating my first day back at school. Of course we should pig out on pizza.

I start getting sleepy in the last 20 minutes of the movie. Sam puts a pillow on his lap and directs me down into his lap. "Now you want the blow job." I mutter.

"What?"

"Nothing." Just making jokes that I shouldn't make. Not if I don't want to ruin it. He strokes my hair, his fingers running through my locks down to my scalp. Like he's massaging it. I imagine what that firm touch could do to my breasts. At some point, I must have fallen asleep, because I hear him calling me.

"Julia... Julia, time to go to bed."

"Fuck me." I grumble stretching. "What time is it?"

"Past your bed time I guess." He helps me up and I find my way to my room through hazy eyes. But sleep is over for me once I'm alone again. I've had either John or Dean sleeping in the next room every night since John took me in. One of them coming to wake me from my nightmares on the occasional nights Bruno or the tiny face haunt me. Tonight, I lay in bed staring at the ceiling. I had felt warm and safe in Sam's lap but now it's over. I wait and wait, but sleep doesn't come.

The urge to sneak into Sam's bed is strong. But I don't do it. I already groped him last week. I should leave him alone already.

My next day of school is uneventful, if not exhausting. We get home from school to find John and Dean are back and I'm relieved by the proposition of a good night's sleep. As weeks pass by a rhythm is picked up easily enough. John takes me to a goodwill to shop for clothes as the season has changed and the last batch he gave me aren't cutting it against the cold. He warns me we'll be leaving town in a few days while we're shopping. I wonder if the shopping trip is a goodbye or his way of trying to ease me into the plan. Either way, it suggests he is trying to soften the blow. In the pit of my stomach, I fear that the Winchester's will leave town without me.

I bring home clothes that are similar to John's and his son's but it looks a little odd on me. I don't look rough and tumble enough to pull it off. I look like a 5'7" blonde haired, blue eyed girl. I feel ridiculous right up until I see the looks on Sam and Dean's faces when I wear one of the get ups for school the next morning.

"What?" Yes, I'm paranoid and insecure.

"When you wear it, it looks like a fashion statement." Sam chuckles.

"I'll go change."

"No, it looks good on you. Leave it." Dean nods approvingly. Seems unlikely anyone would like this on me, he probably doesn't want me to take any longer getting ready for school.

The rumour mill must be going strong because I see a lot of pitying looks directed at me around school. I've had two girls tell me how brave I am and look all emotional about it too. I'm too scared to ask what I'm brave about. At least I'm not being vilified. That's got to be worse. It probably helps that I rarely open my mouth, keeping a low profile like John told me to.

Matt has been closed off since my first class with him. I must have said the wrong thing when we were talking about Sam. I have suspicions that he wanted to get friendly with me to get at Sam. He was just using me. I could be wrong. I don't want to make any assumptions. But it looks that way. My thoughts are confirmed soon enough.

"Look at that, the littlest ho is dressing like them now." Matt announces loudly with the teacher out of the room when I arrive at drama class. He's starting the drama without the teacher and without a script. More creativity than I expected out of him. "You must give one hell of a blow job to convince daddy to take you into his home. You running away from pervy foster parents right?" That doesn't even... where did he even get that?

It's too hard not to blush. "You're honestly going to get jealous over something that isn't even happening?"

"You ever take them on all at once? Sam on the bottom, big brother up the ass and daddy in the mouth. That's why you don't even look at anyone at this school." He makes obscene facial expressions and gestures you would expect from a porn actress while making girly breathy moans followed by a breathless: "Oh Sam!"

"Do you usually picture guys in your sexual fantasies?" I ask snidely.

His eyes harden. "I bet daddy bought you for his brat. That's why you follow him around. You're his trained bitch. Ready to spread 'em wherever and whenever he wants. Any guys here who aren't jealous of that?" His expression manages to be a twist between crude and cruel.

"Keep talking about John and you'll regret it." Heat and anger strike down my spine. John has only ever been nice to me. None of the Winchester's deserve to be smeared by this dick.

"Really? Or what?"

"Or I'm going to cut you a new asshole and fuck it with a strap-on you stupid cunt."

Shock followed by fury flashes across Matt's face and he rushes me. "You bitch!" I duck the first punch and manage to twist him around and get his hand behind his back. But he proves too much strong to keep it there. A moment later, his hands are wrapped around my throat. Hands try to pull us apart. I can't breathe. I'm choking! His eyes are deadly and focused on me. Managing to calm down the panic at my lack of oxygen, I punch him in the throat and he releases me when he drops to the ground. We both struggle to breathe, rasping for air.

The drama teacher appears out of nowhere, running in. "What happened?"

"Knock down, drag out fight between Matt and Julia." I hear someone say.

"She threatened to fuck him with a dildo." One of Matt's friends says.

"He said her family bought her and have been screwing her." Someone actually defends me to my surprise. Maybe that rumour mill might come through for me yet.

"Matt's a total dick Sir, he had it coming."

"She taunted him!" His friend defends him again.

"Okay! That's enough! Jared and Andrea, take these two down to the Head Office." Mr Faust heads over to the phone and makes a call as Andrea leads me away. Hulking Jared offers a hand to Matt and he shoves him away.

So much for drama class not being too bad.

John talks to the school over the phone while I sit on the bench in the office. Matt sits on the other bench. I do my best to avoid making eye contact. I don't want to get choked out. Kids point and gossip through the glass wall. Yes, I'm on display. That's just great, I think dryly. Then John talks to me over the phone, mostly to say that he can't walk away from the job right now. Then he talks to the Principal again.

When Sam walks into the office he goes off on Matt. "I told you to stay the hell away from her!" The Principal is already there and quick to step between Sam and Matt. "We all know what you did to those girls last summer. You shouldn't even be in this school you sick 'tard!"

"I'm the sick 'tard? Did you hear what she threatened to do to me?" Matt is on his feet and held back by Jared.

Surprisingly, despite the size difference, I get the sense that the two of them are pretty evenly matched.

"Sam, I can fight my own battles." I tell him quietly. He makes eye contact with me and quickly calms down.

"Yeah, I know you can. I just know what a piece of shit he is." Sam says tightly.

"I think it's best you two skidaddle while we have a word with Matt." Principal Langley tells us.

"You gonna mention what's wrong with picking on underweight, traumatized girls half his size?"

"You're a good student Sam. Julia's safe. Take her home, okay?"

I can see him gritting his teeth as he grabs my hand like I'm a little kid and pulls me along behind him. Our school bags are abandoned. "Sam? Sam? Slow down."

He whirls on me in the parking lot. "What were you thinking egging him on?"

"What were you thinking telling him to stay away from me? Way to make me target number one!"

"You were already a target." He mumbles and pulls me along again.

I yank my hand from his. "What do you mean?"

"Pretty girl with likely Daddy issues. You're looking for male acceptance and approval. Predators like Matt want a piece of it." He starts walking again but doesn't make sure that I'm following this time. "I had to do something."

Not knowing what to say, I don't say anything. I just follow him. I hide in my room. Still blushing over what Matt said about me. I don't come out to eat when he calls me for dinner.

He gets a call from John. He lets us know he'll be back tomorrow after lunch to have a talk with the Principal. If he's finished the job and back on the road by then. It's not an official suspension but the Principal has requested we stay home from school tomorrow. Apparently there have been problems between Sam and Matt before. No kidding.

Matt comes at me in my sleep that night. Bruno behind his eyes. I shriek when he rips my arm off and uses it as a bat to beat our drama class with, while I bleed to death. It's a pretty lame dream but it freaks me out. I'm still screaming when Sam is grabbing my face and trying to wrench me out of my dreams. He replaces the scene with his presence. I don't remember having a thought. Just started kissing him and dragging my hands down his body. He can make it all go away. I want him to make it all go away. "I need you. Sam, I need you inside me."

He freezes as I press him down into my bed, covering him in kisses. "I can't touch you." He says.

"Then I'll do all the touching." I reason. He makes a choking sound.

"That's not what he meant."

I drag my nightshirt up over my head and straddle his waist kissing down his neck. "I want you Sam. Don't you want me?" I roll my hips over him. I'm trying in earnest to convince him to do this with me. No one's here to distract him this time.

"Julia?" He nearly whines. I can't tell if he's pleading with me to stop or keep going. I should ask but I'm scared he'll say he wants me to stop. In my gut, I know that's wrong but I keep going. I'm hoping he'll be a normal teenage boy and the temptation will be too great. If I can overwhelm all of his senses, he'll pour himself into me and chase Bruno away for one night. I run my hands up and down and all over him. I bring his hand down to my centre and reach into his shorts. I moan when I hear his quiet gasp. Taking him in hand, I stroke him in time to my rocking hips.

"Oh God, Julia-" To my surprise, he ejaculates when we've barely gotten started. I move down to lick him clean. He makes a high, tight shocked sound in his throat when my tongue touches his skin. I've never tried doing this, but I've been aware of when Bruno licked up semen while wearing my body. It's almost reflexive. I have to hold back a smile when Sam whimpers. "I-I-I-" Sam stutters.

His erection doesn't let up and I make a guess that a sixteen year old like Sam will be ready to go again soon enough if I work him up first. I glance at him and see him gritting his teeth as his hands clench the sheets on my bed. I make eye contact with him as I lower my mouth down over his cock. I'm rewarded by the sound he makes in the back of his throat. He's so beautiful lying there like that. I almost stop what I'm doing to stare at him. I haven't cleaned up everything yet when I climb up on him. I can't wait any longer. I need him now.

"We shouldn't-" he starts to say before I lower my core down on him.

"I really think we should." I answer him and rise up and down on him. I'm not really sure if I'm doing it right. Bruno engaged in mutual oral sex done to me and with me to others. It seemed dumb that his thoughts focused on my virginity when I felt raped again and again by the oral sex. I don't feel like a virgin anymore. Just a little unsure about actual sex. But it feels right. Unfamiliar but right. "Do I feel good, Sam? You feel good. Hard. Filling me all up."

"Julia, I want you. We should use-" Hearing what I wanted to hear, I begin to move faster on him and he finally starts thrusting up into me, grabbing my hips to change the angle.

"Yes! That's it." My voice is too high. Almost unrecognizable. I want him to do this. I want him to want me. I want someone to want me that way. Uncontrolled and reckless and hurried. That it's Sam makes it so much better.

To my surprise, he rolls us over and slows down. I watch hungry eyes stop to look down at me. "I should stop." He is still inside of me and I flex my inner muscles around him.

"Please." I tell him. I witness the inner conflict in his eyes before he groans and lowers his mouth to my breast and suckles heartily. I can feel my eyes roll back and hear my soft keening. Pleasure warms me inside and out. This is what I was looking for. This is what I wanted. He begins to rock back and forth inside me. We sound wet and disgusting but it feels too good to give a crap about the sounds we're making. "Uhhh! Harder." I tell him.

Sam doesn't need to be told twice. His enthusiastic thrusts pound into me at such force, I'm surprised it doesn't hurt. No, it feels amazing. I need him to know how good it feels but the words are lost in my head. Instead I make stupid high pitched cries. I'm building fast. I feel his arms go underneath me and clamp onto my shoulders to hold me in position. I've ceased moving with him at this point, I can't thrust that fast. I'm just laying there in wide eyed surprise as my body builds to an orgasm at record speed. When I feel him stiffen and grunt, the motion pushes me over the edge and I cry out as my own pleasure pulses with him. "Sam!" Tears out of my mouth when he gives one last hard thrust and I can't keep my eyes open against my enjoyment.

I had pretty low expectations given neither of us are particularly experienced or knowledgeable. That it was this good, confirms for me that I'm not sorry at all for pushing him into this. My legs are wrapped around his backside and we're slick and hot. His weight on my chest makes it difficult to breathe but I don't want him to move. He feels solid and safe. I want him to stay inside me. Filling the empty, cold void that Bruno left inside of me.

When our heartbeats have evened out, he braces his weight on his elbows and looks down at me thoughtfully. His expression is torn. "I can't decide if I regret this or not. It felt amazing but... what if I just got you pregnant? It was... a really stupid move."

I stroke his forehead, trying to ease the frown away. "I needed it. Again Sam. I want you again."

"What if you're pregnant?"

I look up at him thoughtfully. "Then we better make this night worth our while. We probably won't do something this stupid ever again."

He laughs. "This has got to be the dumbest things I've ever done."

"You're right. This is the dumbest thing you've ever done." John's dry voice brings us back to reality in a rush.


	4. The Shitty Luck Club

Disclaimer: *insert legal junk about me not owning shit here*

AN: You don't deserve me. Really, you don't. I got this edited after umming and ahhing and indecisiveness and this is the fourth chapter I've edited for you in less than a week in total. You're impressed. I admit it. I'm really disappointed by the lack of reviews. And I'm being annoying by telling you I'm disappointed in you. Yes you. I see you reading all three of those last chapters and not saying a damn word. Just so you know, I'm using the force to direct evil intent at you right now. Also note, Iya is Lakota legend/myth and I borrowed him from a couple of their stories. You can google him and everything. I needed a way for these two to meet so I went hunting for a creature from Bobby's neck of the woods. And yes, I will tell you what happened after John caught them.

January 2007

Two hours I've been sitting in the interrogation room waiting on this man. And when he walks in, he is carrying two coffee cups, a file under his arm, and a frustrated expression on his face. I have no idea what is going on. I got a call from my instructor at midnight, telling me to get to the airport. I was placed on a private jet and brought to of all places, Milwaukee. It doesn't make any sense. I'm still training in Quantico. I'm a recruit. Not an agent. I've got a long way to go before I'm given cases.

I'm still amazed daily that I actually got as far as Quantico. When I look around at the other recruits each morning and they're so perfect. I thought my background would disqualify me, but it hasn't. Maybe my personal experiences as a victim bring a unique perspective? Maybe I'm tired because it's the early hours of the morning and I haven't slept and I'm just running on high nerves at this point.

"I'm Special Agent Henriksen, Miss Wright. I need to talk to you about the Winchester's."

"Are they in trouble?" Now I'm worried. I shouldn't be. They can take care of themselves right?

He laughs at me. He actually laughs. And then stops abruptly and stares hard at me. "You should know this recruit. You haven't been following them on the Most Wanted List?"

That is embarrassing. "I'm not currently up to date on the Most Wanted List right now sir. I should be, but I'm not."

There isn't even a tiny measure of forgiveness in his face. I think what he would really like to do right now is throw that scalding hot coffee in my face. But instead, he shows the restraint of a man who works his way into the FBI and all of the way up to Special Agent. He places a coffee directly in front of me and sits across from me at the plain grey table. His dark eyes reading me.

"John Winchester once took you under his wing and had you living with his sons for 3 months in Fayetteville Arkansas in 1997. Your record says he drove you to one Missouri Mosely in Lawrence Kansas when they left town. I need to know everything you know about the Winchesters." He is watching my face like a hawk, his expression frozen. Waiting for a reaction.

I put my best poker face on. Internally my stomach is queasy and I'm shocked by the idea of the Winchester's ending up on the Most Wanted List. I have a confusing mix of emotions about the family. I've been hurt and angry. I've pined for and missed them. None of this is relevant. I need to not think these things right now. I need to focus on the subject at hand. Henriksen is quite obviously a bloodhound and he's on their tail. I don't know if they've gone off the rails or not. I need to give him something or I won't be any help to them in case they're still hunting and it's not what it looks like. I pause long enough to look at the angles. "Sir, I'll admit to some reluctance on my part, but if I'm to connect the dots, one of his sons is on the Most Wanted List? In that case it would be my duty to aid you in any way with his capture."

As much as he tries, Henriksen can't hide the sneer on his face when he answers me. "Try both. Both are on the MWL. Tell me, what was it like living with them?" Be doesn't trust me. He thinks I'm one of them. This can't be good for my odds of getting into the FBI. Henriksen is going to block me from becoming an agent. I'm screwed. Listening to myself think, I could just slap myself.

I take a moment to formulate my answer. I must have taken too long because he snaps at me. I'm not used to lying. At least not since I was a teenager.

"Now. Don't think about it. I want faster answers."

He knows he's getting carefully developed answers when I pause. I'm going to have to just go with it. "I went to school with Sam, while John and Dean were gone a lot."

"Gone? Doing what?" It's like playing a racket sport. He hits, I return.

"They said hunting, Sir."

"You were living in a motel, where would they store the meat?" He hits again, I return.

"There wasn't any meat to store. I was under the impression they were hunting ghosts."

"So you knew they were psycho's?"

"I was sixteen years old and homeless. I refused to stay in foster care but I needed a roof over my head and food in my stomach. I would've debated the merits of Unicorn penmanship vs Big Foot if he wanted me to Sir. Questions of whether ghosts and demons being real weren't high on my priority list. I said nothing." Lies. Lies that I have told myself so long that I mostly believe them. Mostly.

"You like them?"

"They were good to me. John believed the socio-path that had held me captive was a demon possessing me. And it was a good metaphor for what I had been through. They watched over me and made me feel safe for the first time in a long time."

The cynical expression tells me he isn't impressed. "Pretty young girl in the house, most likely with psychiatric issues and the sixteen year old and twenty year old never touched you?"

I can't hide all of my emotions as memories rush up faster than I can process them. There goes my poker face.

Henriksen raises an eyebrow.

"I was briefly involved with Sam Winchester."

The atmosphere in the room thickens. I'm already regretting coming clean. "You slept with a man on the FBI's Most Wanted List and you're trying to get into the FBI?" He let's incriminating silence hang there. I been looking through you paperwork and something smells. Everything objection has been met with a rubber stamp. You should'a been disqualified rounds ago, but you made it all the way up to Quantico."

Relevance? How is this connected?

Now he's annoyed because I don't know why he's telling me this. "This exactly the sort mysterious issues that come up in cases related to Dean and Sam. As soon as I saw Winchester alert pop up on the database, I read your application and I objected. It was like talkin' to thin air because not a week later, you'd been sent on down the line. I got my superior to object. And we're not the only ones that objected. How the hell do you and the Winchester's do it? Victims either love 'em or they aren't talking 'cause they're dead. You're one o' John's old victims. He seeded you back into the system didn't he? Are you still fucking Sam or have you moved onto the old man now?"

My mouth falls open. Did he really just ask me that? "I haven't seen Sam, Dean or John since I was sixteen. Things didn't really end on the best terms. Your question was inappropriate, Sir."

He thrusts his lips out as he steeps in his righteous anger. I didn't follow the script he was expecting. Cooler heads prevailed. Seconds tick by and I take a sip of my coffee. Black, nothing in it. I like milk in my coffee and this is a far cry from a decent coffee. He straightens his suit and starts again.

"You wanna know what your friends have been up to? Mail fraud, credit card fraud, grave desecrations, breaking and entering, armed robbery, kidnapping, and three counts of the first degree murder. Dean even managed to fool St. Louis police into burying a dead body and thinking it was him. Tonight, they held up a bank. Killed a lot of people. They houdini'd their way out of 3 tactical squads surrounding the building." It's probably bad to admit that I'm impressed.

"I'm willing to help you anyway I can to get them off the streets. Sounds like they've changed as much as I have since we last knew each other." He's cynical but goes over the brothers with me. Habits, likes, dislikes, training, practice and personal things I couldn't ask. I was wondering if he was going to ask me if they've been circumcised but thankfully he stops before that point.

The flight back to Quantico is on a regular airline tomorrow. For now, I'm being put up for the night in the Hilton by the airport. It doesn't help me take my mind off the Winchester's. The contrast between this lush hotel room and the motel room I lived in with them years ago, are extreme. The motel had yellowed peeling wallpaper from years of cigarette smoke. This room has Benjamin Moore French Press brown with carefully match colour palette accenting wall and bedding and furniture. My bed was made of plywood with some cheap vanish trying to make it look like oak. This bed is made of solid mahogany and I doubt it squeaks when you have sex on it.

That wasn't the right thought to have because I'm back in that room with Sam on top of me and John saying that this was the dumbest thing we'd ever done. The memory is vivid.

October 1999

Sam reacts much more quickly than I do. I have a hard time placing John's voice in the middle of all this. His presence is incongruous with the tender moment. Sam gets off me and I'm instantly missing the sensation of him inside me. Such a stupid thought when John is about to ream us out.

"Sir!" Sam yelps as he tries to find his pants while not taking the entire bed sheet off me.

"Again, you didn't listen to a word I said." John speaks in a hard tone and I sit up holding onto the bed sheet, wide eyed. He looks between the two of us as I stare uncomprehendingly and Sam comprehends all too well, fumbling to get his pyjamas on. "Sam, follow me. Julia," he starts to say and I have just started gathering my wits about me.

"I did it. It's not his fault." I explain.

John looks incredulously at me and then at Sam. There's something in his tone I don't like. Why do I get the feeling Sam's about to take the brunt of this? "You hear that? She says it's not your fault." Sam flinches when John drops a hand on his shoulder. "Julia, get dressed and meet us in the living room in two minutes."

The door closes and I sit there in shock. What is John doing here? How-What-? What happened? What the hell just happened here? I hear Bruno's return. He was right about everything._ 'What happened? You're a dirty little whore and you used some kid for your own pleasure. That's what happened. And the bitchiest part is you're gonna let him take the fall because you're a selfish cunt! Are you happy now? You stupid cow!'_ It feels as though Bruno is right here with me. He starts ranting and raving at me and I can't make him stop.

His voice becomes high pitched ringing in my ears. I can't just leave Sam alone out there to face the music, so I put on my night shirt. I look around for tissue but can't find any. Not knowing what else to do about the wetness between my thighs, I use the bed sheet. With a fresh pair of underwear on, I put my hand on the door handle and take a deep breath. The high pitched ringing has died down a little and I take Bruno's hurtful words and use them to brace myself against whatever John has waiting for me.

I find John and Sam sitting at the small kitchen table. John pushes out a seat and indicates that I join him. As can be expected, they're both tense. John's face doesn't tell me much. Sam's face is tight as he looks at me with only the barest signal of acknowledging my presence.

"Where's Dean?" The first part of the first word comes out husky and I have to force out the rest of the sentence loudly to make my voice clear.

"Never you mind where Dean is. We need to talk about you two. Sit down."

I take the seat he left out for me. I slouch down, cross my arms and jut out my chin defiantly. I can see Sam out of the corner of my eye giving a the tiniest shake of his head in warning. Not a chance Sam. I'm taking John on. If I can piss John off enough, he'll shift his attention from Sam to me and then the person who's really responsible should deal with John's wrath.

John looks me over critically. Taking in my body language. But he doesn't comment. "I would'a been annoyed with the sex." John starts. "I would have been more annoyed with Sam for sleeping with you when he knows you've got a lot on your plate right now. But what shocks me is that the two of you didn't use any protection. I don't know what your background is Julia, but I know that Sam knows better. If you aren't using protection, you're trying for a baby." He waits for that thought to sift down into our heads.

I sneak a look at Sam and he's frowning deeply at the table in thought. I wasn't trying for a baby whatever he says. I wanted Sam inside and all around and through me. That's what I was trying for and that's what I got.

"If I'd'a known you two were gonna do this, I would've told you exactly what happened to Julia, Sam."

My eyes widen in alarm at John but he just keeps on talking. "John. John don't."

"The demon knocked her up and forced her to carry to term. It sexually and psychologically abused her. She managed to perform some crazy kind of self-exorcism. She gave the baby up for adoption was taken into custody by CPS. She ran away and wound up in hunter circles and then homeless. God knows what happened to her on the streets. So, Sam... taking her up on sex isn't helping her at all."

It feels as though John just put me on the table and stripped me and then dissected my breasts and genitalia. What I really want to do is cry, but I can't do that in front of them. So I throw my dismay into white hot anger.

Sam looks at me sideways, as though he could see everything that happened. "I'm sorry." He says and the look he gives me is sorrowful.

"Don't. Don't apologize to me. I wanted it and I'm gonna want it again and if you won't give me sex I'll find someone that will." I don't know if that's true or not but hell if I don't want John to believe that.

John looks at me dubiously.

"I wanted it. I pressured him into it."

"You're both responsible. I expect better of you. Especially you Sam. I didn't even see that coming. What were you thinking?" John raises an eyebrow.

Sam mumbles and stutters. The guilt is obvious on his features. But the shame... I didn't expect to see that.

Understanding dawns on John's face and what he says next shocks the hell out of me. "You liked the risk in it and it made you feel virile." John says knowingly. As though Sam had actually in the moment made the conscious decision not to use a condom.

"That's crazy. I didn't give him a chance to think." I defend Sam from the accusation.

I expected Sam to deny John's words. To fight back but when I look at him, he looks like he just got caught red handed.

"Julia, you might've pushed him into it but he was cognizant of his actions. I point this out because it won't do you much good puttin' this all on you. What was the first day of your last period?" He asks getting up and going to the calendar. I mumble my answer, awkwardly not looking at Sam. I don't know how I feel about him consciously choosing not to use a condom. But I don't even know what I was thinking. I suppose I worried if he left to get a condom he might come to his senses. I was thinking I wanted everything he had to offer and I didn't want to miss out on any of it. Or maybe I just wasn't thinking.

"Then you're probably not ovulating but teenagers are a very fertile bunch. I'm not giving permission to have sex, so don't take this the wrong way. But if I make an appointment with a gynecologist for you, would you be willin' to go? Maybe go on the pill. You're vulnerable to risky behaviour." He thinks I'm a stupid girl and I can't be trusted. I got it.

I look back down at the table and nod.

When he next speaks to Sam I nearly jump out of my seat at the harsh tone. "Touch her again and I'll drag you out on every single hunt for the next two years. Understand?"

"Yes sir," Sam answers tightly.

"I'd punish you but stressing about getting knocked up is punishment enough." John gets up and makes a call.

Sam offers a weak smile and I return it before heading to my room to get a change of clothes. I see the first rays of sunlight peeking behind the curtain indicating that it's dawn. I want to ask John why he is back early, but I doubt that will go over well. I get into the shower and turn the water on. I pause. I don't want to wash him off just yet. I smell like him.

A wave of anger at myself washes over me and dunk myself under the shower head. I'm not sorry I had sex with Sam. I am sorry about the lack of birth control. Sometimes, when he looks at me, I feel like we have connection. But I chalk it up to being a 16 year old girl with a crush. There are no soul mates. There isn't any love. There isn't anything sweet to hang up my hat on and I'm an incredibly stupid girl for even thinking it for even a second. I scrub my skin down but stop short of making my skin sore. I wash my hair and shave my legs when I realize I fucked Sam with stubble on my legs. I really wasn't thinking when I had sex with him.

I remember how I felt that moment when he climaxed and the motion and sound pushing me over the edge. I remember him inside of me and all around me. I remember knowing he was releasing inside of me and how happy I felt in that moment. I hadn't been that happy in a long time.

Did Sam feel as happy as I did in that moment? Probably not. I'm truly pathetic thinking even for a moment that this was all as special for him as it was for me. In fact, it wasn't special. No one talked about love or feelings. Once I'm clear that this was all physical, I set my shoulders and prepare myself to go back into reality. Sam was kind enough to give me a break from it, but we can't hide out in fantasy land forever.

I turn off the water and towel dry quickly and throw my change of clothes on. No man is ever going to value me. I'm the busted can without a label at the store that no one's going to pay for. If I want a future, I'm going to have to make my own.

October 2007

When I went back to Quantico, my belongings had been packed up and were waiting for me at my superiors office. I got the mild apology that with the Winchester track record, they couldn't take chances with the agencies reputation that I was going to turn on them later. The hurt, disappointment and depression are overwhelming.

For the first three months, I sit at home drinking through my savings. When I'm down to my last thousand and two empty credit cards, I cash out. I maxed out my credit cards on guns and ammunition. I ended my lease on my apartment. I emptied what was left in my savings. I sold my furniture and any clothes that won't fit in my duffel bag. Anything left over, I donated to charity or threw away if I deemed it sub-par. And then I hit the road on my first case. A salt and burn.

Now it's October and I'm looking into reports of backwoods campers being murdered in Dakota. Which one? Does it matter anymore? I'm barely keeping track. At first, I thought it was a Wendigo, but in two of the events, there was evidence of these campers first finding a lost baby in the woods. One group had a satellite phone and had contacted authorities just before nightfall to say that they were bringing a baby of about 6 months old back to the Ranger Station. The other group had pictures on a cellphone and footage from their camera of them finding a baby. After spending a full week trying to find something connected to groups of 3-7 campers being slaughtered and a baby, I've given up and I'm going in blind.

The trails have been officially closed for investigations after the third set of campers were killed. I've got camping equipment, hunting gear and I'm going in heavily weighed down given it is a full days hike to where the closest murders to the trail beginning happened. It's a warm day, but carrying all of this equipment, I am sweaty and tired. The first day goes by uneventfully enough. It's the second day, when I reach the waterfall at the wooded canyon, I hear it.

A baby wailing. I pull out my shotgun and slowly search in the bushes. A beautiful, black haired native American baby has his eyes screwed tight shut and his chubby little fists clenched tightly as he pitches a fit. I don't blame him. Little guy probably won't make it long out here on his own. But knowing that he is most likely a lure for a deadly killer, I'm left second guessing myself. Try to take the baby back to the ranger station more than a day and a half away or sit by him and wait for the monster to come. My heart goes out to him. How long as this monster been using him for a lure? How many times has he had to cry his little heart out? For just a second, I think of my own baby that I gave up.

Unable to listen to him cry any longer, I pick him up and rock him and soothe him. As if I'm not carrying enough equipment, a 13 pound six month old isn't helping matters. I bounce him on one hip as I balance my shotgun in my other hand. I'm not going to hunt much of anything like this. Sundown is going to be coming in a few hours. It's best I set up camp now and try to head back in the morning.

I try to make a call from my cell phone but can't find a signal. Not really surprising. He's a good baby. He lays on my jacket on his belly watching me as I set up my tent. I cook myself some baked beans and toast a little bread. And I warm some juice for him, it's the only thing I have. He spills a lot as I try to feed it to him from a cup. A baby bottle would be really handy right about now. And milk or formula. I should have thought of that. I feed him a little bit of mushy beans but he isn't particularly interested. Instead, he silently stares up at me.

As the sun sets, I sit in my tent with the baby in my arms and stare at him sleeping peacefully. That's when I hear it. People murmuring. I set him down and turn on my flash light, shotgun in hand and look for the people. My heartbeat growing fast and hard. Where are they? I see nothing and nobody. After searching for some time, I get back into my tent. I notice the noise of people talking is louder in here. My intuition says to check the baby. I put my ear to the baby's mouth and that's when I hear it. People sobbing and calling for help. Trapped. How can people be trapped in a baby?

His eyes snap open in the moonlight and his hand snatches my throat as he morphs into something entirely different. Mangled and ugly, his sinister smile laughing at me. I pump my shotgun and blast him in the chest. I fight with the zipper to my tent and grab my duffel bag of hunting gear and start running in the dark. I try to stick to the trail. I'm so scared it's any wonder I haven't wet myself.

I'm hit from the side with force and slam into a tree. I see stars momentarily. The shotgun left my hands when I went flying.

"You will pay for shooting me." He says, the crowd of voices beg and scream much louder now. Warning me to run. I try to get to my feet as his mouth yawns open so wide, I wonder if he just dislodge his jaw.

Boom! He goes flying backwards. I look back and see a man with a beard and a truckers hat holding a shotgun in the moonlight. I then see that in his other hand is a machete. I'm unprepared for when he starts hacking the creature down to many little pieces. I sit up and watch in shock when he sets the remains on fire.

Then the man turns his face to me. I can't see it with the moon behind him. "What're you doin' hikin' on a closed trail! If I hadn't heard your shotgun going off, I wouldn'ta heard you to come get you! Idjit." Yes, he's angry.

Well, he's friendly. "And I'm Julia Wright. Nice to meet you too." I mock his introduction.

He offers his hand and pulls me to my feet. "Bobby Singer."

"What was that thing?"

"That was the Iya and you're damn lucky to be alive. You brought the baby back to camp with ya, di'n't you?" He says in a rough voice.

"I figured he was the lure and would bring the monster right to me. I didn't realize he was the monster." I admit.

There's a pause. "You're a hunter?"

"Not much of one apparently, but yeah. I guess I qualify, seeing as I didn't shit my pants."

Bobby laughs. "Good job on that." He follows me back to my tent where I try to salvage what's left. "How long you been huntin'?"

"I"ve known about this stuff since I was a kid. But I just started hunting around... March or April, I think."

"Who's been teachin' you?"

"I've been muddlin' through on my own."

"You don't have much of a life expectancy with that approach."

I shrug. What else is there to say to that?

When I don't say anything, he reluctantly tells me to follow him back to his camp.

The old man must move pretty quick because his camp isn't close. The distance he must have made between me shooting that fucker and him reaching me is impressive. My respect grows quickly. He isn't just an old trucker. He must actually gets off his ass and works to be in that kind of shape. I appreciate fitness, especially in older people.

He rekindles the fire at his camp that he must have kicked dirt over when he left in a hurry, because the embers are still glowing. I take a seat across from him and accept the metal flask he offers me as he watches me carefully. He must be curious, I suppose.

"What got you into hunting?"

"My shitty luck."

He huffs a slightly bitter laugh. "Story of my life summed up in three words."

Well aren't we cheerful. Fuck it. I decide it's a nice night. We should have a little fun. "We should make a club. You know, like the Joy Luck Club? We could be the Shitty Luck Club. We'll need a three letter abbreviation, naturally. You'll be Chief of SLC. It'll be the most awesome thing in my life since I tried French Kissing. Whadayasay?" I wriggle my eyebrows enthusiastically.

He grins wide. "If I'm chief, what does that make you?"

"President of the back seat."

He snorts. "President of the back seat? I haven't heard of that position before."

I solemnly nod my head. "Absolutely, I saw it on Sponge Bob Square Pants. Wait a minute. Bobby Singer. Sponge Bob. Bobby I can feel it in my bones. This club was pre-ordained. I can't wait to make a secret handshake and everything."

"You're cheerful for a hunter. Most of us are miserable bastards."

"Nope, I'm a cheerful bitch. Lure 'em in with bad jokes and then crush souls when I wake up in the morning."

"Thanks for the heads-up."

"You know how it is. Wake up, trip over your feelings, throw a little hissy fit, brush it off and everything's okay again." Fatigue sets in as I think about tomorrow morning. Waking up and doing it all over again. Living. Although, I'm not really sure what I'm doing can be considered living. I'm surviving. I'm hunting. I'm just getting by. I have no future. I will die alone in an abandoned old house in the woods one of these days and only the scabies I'll probably pick up eventually in some skeevy motel will miss me.

We fall into glum silence. I presume Bobby's thoughts are equally depressing. I'd ask him how he got into hunting but I can safely assume no one would get involved if they didn't have a shitty story to tell. Those are enough depressing thoughts for this month.

"Time for bed."

AN: You're mourning for the loss of Iya, aren't you? I know I am. When will I get the opportunity to play with him again after I already hacked him to pieces? He was kinda cool. RIP Iya. *wipes tear away*

Would it kill you to leave a review? Yes, I'm annoying. Yes, I'm gonna keep on bringing that up. Shoot me for caring.


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